


We were lost (but together we are invincible)

by Orlha



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Author can't write fluff but she tries, BAMF Skye | Daisy Johnson, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Human Experimentation, Kidnapping, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Romance, Slow Burn, Time Paradoxes, Time Travel, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5135351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orlha/pseuds/Orlha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time Travel. Skye/Bucky. Darcy/Steve. </p><p>Skye and Darcy never realized that their whole lives were a paradox and now they're going for the ride of their lifetime where all they can do is hold onto the sides and hope.</p><p>Skye - He was Bucky but he wasn’t <i>her</i> Bucky. A lot of their relationship didn’t make sense. But after landing in the past, the strange looks that Steve and Bucky shot her occasionally suddenly all made sense.</p><p>Darcy - He claimed he fell for her first sight and Darcy always knew that wasn't true. She knew he was keeping secrets from her but she never realized how big it was or how much it had affected her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sure aren’t in Kansas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, this story is NOT angst. I know it starts off angst like every other story I've written, but it is NOT angst!

  _ **i.**_

Skye pursed her lips and took a last look around the flat. She’ll miss this flat when she leaves; the flat and it’s noises, sharing the mug of hot chocolate with Bucky on cold days, pressing her cold feet to his warm skin and laughing at his half-hearted snarl. Not yet gone and she already missed it. Skye glanced at Bucky who only stood in the shadow of the hallway. His face was shadowed and despite that, she knew him well enough to read his posture. Even though he had regrets, he was not going to back down from the words he said last night.

“Tell me to stay and I will, tell me to leave and I will,” she murmured the same line again, hoping he’d tell her that he regretted telling her to leave.  

But he doesn’t say anything, his posture still unwavering and tense. She clenched her sling bag, dry swallowing as she regards him for the last time.

“Good bye Bucky.” She turned, not looking back. “I loved you,” she whispered as the door slammed shut behind her. Blinking the hot tears back, Skye made her way down the stairs, hands trailing down the hallway.

She stopped just at the exit, head turning just enough to catch his silhouette in the window. Bucky was watching her leave, why? Why not come after her? Skye choked the burning emotion back and stilling her shuddering lips. Perhaps Captain America could answer her questions. Though he was often awkward around her, he always obliged her. She had to crash somewhere anyway. She could crash at Darcy’s place.

Turning away, Skye walked down the city roads, not looking back though she desperately wanted to, her feet taking further and further away from the place she had lived for a year.

* * *

 

“Oh god! You’re really here!” Darcy shrieks when she entered the labs. “I thought you were kidding when I answered the phone this morning. You know... half-awake and shit. I was like wtf? I did not just hear that the golden couple had broke up!”

Reaching over for one of the boxes, Darcy dumped one of them by a creaky looking machine.

“Ok. We’re so going to talk at lunch then tequlia. It’s Tequlia Thursday!” She checked her watch. “Just got to feed the scientists and we’ll be off. Sit here!” She rambled a little more, hips swaying to the music.

Darcy’s loudness had its perks. At least it distracted Skye from the thoughts of Bucky. Bucky who stood in the hallway watching her leave, not saying a single word. Bucky who watched her leave through the window. Skye palmed her eyes, leaning against a creaky machine and then the strangest feeling overcame her; the feeling of falling backwards and floating.  

Darcy was running towards her and so was the three scientists, mouths opening and closing as though yelling but Skye heard nothing. The ground beneath her seemed to open up. There was a lump in her throat as she struggled to free herself, arms flailing trying to pull herself out as she sunk into the darkness.

_Bucky!_

And then nothing.

* * *

 

**_ii._ **

Her body lurched, convulsing as she woke to an unfamiliar room. Skye blinked blearily, hand caressing the blanket that covered her. Patchwork blankets. It had been an awfully long time since she had seen those. One of her foster homes used to have patchwork blankets and taught her how to make intricate ones, but she had never seen the need to. Patchwork blankets were a gift of love and Skye never had anyone to make them for. _Except Bucky,_ her mind reminded her.

Where was she and how has she gotten here? It didn’t seem like a place that Tony would have allowed existing in his giant monument to his dick of a tower. Small, dingy, the furnishings were well-worn and well-cared for.

 _We sure aren’t in Kansas_.

A lance of pain punched through her as she attempted to sit up and she groaned loudly, clutching her head and laid her head against her knees.

“Are you okay?” A very skinny young man asked, popping in.  “Do you need water? Food?”

It took her several more moments before something struck Skye peculiar. The voice sounded familiar, very familiar. Despite the sharp agony, she forced her head to tilt her, catching the blue eyes and shock of blond hair.

He was Steve Rogers.

Skye had seen enough photos of pre-serum Steve Rogers to not ever mistake a very skinny man for him. He was fucking pre-serum Steve Rogers. Hand trembling, Skye pressed it against her clammy forehead, forcing herself to breathe deep breaths. Her heart leapt erratically against her ribs as the world seemed to spin in her vision.

“What did they do to you?” she croaked through her dry throat.

“It’s called genetics, ma’am.” He gave her a wry smile and handed her a cup. “My roommate would be getting back soon with some food. We don’t have much but you look like you could do with some food.”

“Steve?” A voice called out as the door slammed shut. A voice she would never mistake. “Steve are you there?” The room door swung open and he stared at her wide-eyed. “Steve? Why do you have a dame in your room?”

Bucky tilted his head at her with a large grin that Skye had never seen on him in the two years she was dating him.  If pre-serum Steve wasn’t enough of an indicator, the carelessness in Bucky’s posture told her everything she needed to know.

She was in the past.

 

 


	2. You did not just say charred

_**iii.** _

“Name’s James, James Barnes.” He learnt against the headboard with a wink, “You baby-doll can call me Bucky. My friends call me that.”

She gaped at him. His face was so young, so much younger. Back when she was still with him, each smile was a hard won prize. She treasured each small smile, every ghost of smile that lingered on his lips when he looked at her, watched her, a smile that he did not give easy to anyone apart Steve. This wide grinning Bucky was not her Bucky even if they were the same Bucky; even if was the same blue eyes, it wasn’t the same pair that watched her leave. Skye shook herself from her spiraling thoughts.

“When am I?” she whispered.

“Uhm 623 New York Avenue, fourth floor.” Steve replied, his hand steadying the cup in her trembling hands. “Do you-”

“When am I? When?” She loosened her death grip on the cup, allowing Steve to place it on the side table to run her hand through her hair. Her body still painfully throbbing with each movement. “The year! What year is it?” she demanded when the two men just glanced at each other worryingly.

"1941, March 20, ma’am.” Steve said, worry thick in his voice. “Do you.. have anyone we can call?”

She knew she just acted like a total nut case. Travelling through time to a time that she hadn’t even been born, not that it mattered. She had always been by herself, only herself since young. “N-never had anyone,” Never had anyone until Bucky.Part of her wanted to burst out laughing at the whole situation. Breaking up with Bucky just shy of their third anniversary, falling through what probably was time and space. It couldn’t be Hydra again. How on earth could they have gotten to her when she was in the heart of Stark Tower?  “Sorry. Trying day.”

“It’s alright. Just cool down. We’ll get you sorted, get some food in you.” Skye couldn’t help but flinch when he patted her hand. He stood back, tugging Steve from her side. “We’ll call you when dinner’s ready. Just get some shut-eye.”

She slumped in the bed, wishing her heart would stop hurting. To fall through time to a period where Bucky didn’t even know her, looked at her like a stranger. Sure he was friendly and smiled, but it wasn’t the same Bucky. She forced herself to take slow shuddering breaths, squeezing her eyes tight and hoping it was some damn dream.

Darcy could have told her not to lean on the machine. Why hadn’t she? She should have just gone to Steve, endured his sigh and I’m-disappointed-in-you face, gotten answers. What if she just being here changed the course of time. She knew Bucky wouldn’t die… but what if she just… Skye sighed. Could she really attempt to change history? Change everything about the Bucky she loved, change the seventy painful years of torture? History would be so different with just that one moment. The person who saved her from the Hydra cell wouldn’t be him. She might return to a time where she would still be in the cell, still being tortured, still held by Ward. The thought of that bubbled angrily at the base of the throat. She could do this. Stay here and change the history. Save Bucky Barnes even if it meant it never being her Bucky again. Who’s to say that she would make it back anyway?

The momentous decision burnt in her chest. Heart thumping, Skye pulled herself upright and made her way across the small room. Ingrain herself to them two men, get into the army, get into the SSR, stop Bucky from going onto that mission. Small steps to a bigger plan.

She could do it.

* * *

 

_**iv.** _

“Oh my god! What happened!?” Darcy asked, if her tone was slightly hysterical, no one mentioned. Her hand slammed onto the machine. “It’s just a plasmatic reader! That totally shouldn’t have happened! I placed that machine there. I _know_ it’s just a plasmatic reader.”

She paused in her tirade at the Jane and Erik’s looks. “Look, I’m no sciency genius level person, but I damn sure know that that’s a plasmatic reader!” She pointed angrily at the machine that Skye had been leaning on.

“Darcy. That’s not a plasmatic reader,” Banner said. His fingers pulled apart the duct tape that held the casing to reveal a completely different machine. “That’s the experimental time capsule. It shouldn’t have worked. The tests hadn’t worked yet.”

Stark eyed it from his side, looking at it mused. “The first thirty tests had failed because the test object was charred upon its arrival. But she didn’t go into the future. The settings was changed when she leant on it.”

“CHARRED?” Darcy squeaked. “You did _not_ just say **_charred_** _._ That’s my best friend right there! Bucky Barnes’ girlfriend right there. You’re going to do more explanation. Then. Just. _**Charred**._ ” She stabbed him forcibly in the chest with her index finger with each word.

“Darcy…” She felt a muscular arm pull her into his embrace.

“Skye disappeared, Steve.” She hiccuped, pressing her wet cheek into his warm chest. “I didn’t know- I should have-”

“It’s okay,” Steve rubbed the top of her head. “It’ll be okay Darcy.”

“He said _charred_!” She pushed her glassed up and scrubbed her face furiously with her palms. “I killed Skye! I killed-”

“Listen Darcy. We knew this would happen.”

The room that was buzzing with movement and all blatantly eavesdropping on the duo’s conversation fell still. The screwdriver in Tony’s hand fell onto the metal table with a loud thud followed by a loud, “What?”

“Skye’s safe with the past Bucky and me.”

“Is that.. why he broke up with her?” Darcy asked, directing the question to the stoic man at the doorway.

“Partially.” He replied.

“She’ll be alright right? She’ll come back right?” Darcy pressed when he offered no other explanations.

The two men exchanged looks. “We don’t know.”

Bucky was looking abnormally gaunt and exhausted with red-rimmed eyes but Darcy didn’t care. They had allowed something they knew would happen to happen and they didn’t even know if Skye was going to be allow. Outrage spiked through her. “What do you mean you don’t know? There’s got to be reports or something!”

“She was still there when I crashed the plane…” Steve started slowly. “When I arrived back here, I searched for news about her… but it was as though she didn’t exist. No one knew what happened to her, even Peggy.”

“You allowed this to happened even though you didn’t know she would come back?” She gripped his shirt, uncaring for the tears that streamed down her face. Skye was her best friend! The person who saw her for what she really was instead of some incompetent scientist babysitter, taught her skills. Skye wasn’t just her _best_ friend, Skye was her sister from another mother.

“Give Skye back to me! Give Skye back to me!” She leant her forehead against his chest, choking on the grief that felt like swallowing her up.

 

 


	3. Who the hell boils cabbage?

_**v.** _

“What is this?” Skye peered at the bowl in front of her.

“Boiled cabbage?” Bucky replied, “Never had boiled cabbage from where you lived?”

“This is disgusting. Who the hell boils cabbage?” She pursed her lips remembering how she used to do all the cooking for Bucky and Steve because they were so incompetent that it made her cry.

“Never heard language like that from a dame,” Steve stared wide-eyed at her.

"I'll say whatever language it damn well pleases me. From now on you two are banned from the kitchen!" She snatched the dreadful boiled cabbage from the table and found a minute lump of butter. Spooning just enough to grease the pan, she dropped the dreadful cabbage and sprinkled it with a dash of herbs she found at the basement of their freezer and salt. She piled on with a bowl of potatoes and bacon bits.

Steve and Bucky gobbled the potatoes with the cabbage even before her hands left the bowl, large grins erasing the worry they had on their faces when they glanced at her. She never used to understand why Bucky and Steve stared at her oddly when she asked about how the hell they survived their cooking during the war, the strange looks Steve and Bucky shot her occasionally when reminiscing of their past. If they had known her in the past, if she had come to their past and lived with them during the war.. then suddenly everything made sense.

_“How on earth did you guys survive the World war 2 if you guys couldn’t cook!?” She dumped the god knows what into the trash bin. “This is beyond terrible! What on earth did you guys eat!?”_

_The two grown men slouched in their seats like puppies getting scolded, obediently peeling the onions and carrots as she tasked them. If she hadn’t tasted that weird pile of… really-don’t-know-what she would have thought they were experts at cooking from their peeling skills. The not-so-tiny bucket of carrots and potatoes were peeled in record speed, faster than even they had in the orphanage._

_“How is it you guys peel like an expert but cook like a……” Skye searched her mind for a word but couldn’t find an appropriate word to describe their beyond terrible cooking._

_“Dun dun head?” Steve offered and the two men burst into helpless laughter._

_“Remember the first time she ate your cooking?” Bucky elbowed Steve and they fell into another round of laughter._

_“It was like she ate a bug or something!” Steve wheezed. “She had that frown, I never saw you sit stiller than you ever did even when your mama yelled at you.”_

_“Who is this person you guys are talking about?”_

_They smiled fondly at her. Bucky had a soft gaze for her, the sort that sent a warm tingle through her. He reached across the counter, catching her lips with his, a smile crinkling on the corner of his lips as he mapped her mouth with his, making her toes curl into the carpet. “Just someone who made sure we didn’t die on our cooking,” he said, pressing another quick kiss before taking his seat beside Steve again. “Now, food please?”_

_“Geez, hold your horses!” She groused, turning back to the marinating steaks, her fingers still touching her kiss swollen lips. No matter how many times they kissed, it always still felt like their first. Soft, gentle but not hesitant, like he knew what she wanted and on all accounts, perfect._

She watched her two boys clean up, watched Bucky cast her smug grins when their gazes connected. Turning her flushed face to her hands, she considered her situation. She had no papers. If she wanted to work for the SSR, she had to prove her loyalty and her skills. Her vibration skills should at least get their attention and despite she being primarily a hacker, she had picked up several engineering skills while working alongside Fitz and Stark.

Stark.

Could she depend on Howard Stark? When did Bucky and Steve meet Howard?

\----

_**vi.** _

Steve laid Darcy on the sofa in the communal living room. Bucky stood watching him at the doorway, his hands dug deep into the hoodie that Skye bought for him recently.

“We shouldn’t have let her have gone back,” was the first biting words Bucky said to him since that night. His eyes darted to Darcy’s sleeping form, jaw clenching, holding back the weight of words he wanted to say. “She’s right. What if she doesn’t come back!” Steve could hear the metal gears whirring and shifting as Bucky clenched his fist. “What if she dies in the past? Get taken by Hydra? Remember Steven Grant Rogers, remember. Skye has powers. She has powers that Hydra tried over and over again to take.”

“But they didn’t succeed!” Steve was tired of getting blamed for a decision that wasn’t entirely his.

“But that was with us there. What happened after we left, we don’t know. No one knows. No paper records, no digital records.” Bucky stared at the Darcy. “Are you going to let the same happen to her?”

Steve didn’t answer, he couldn’t. The answer no matter what he answered would be canting.

“You made your choice Steve. You let her go back. Now you have to let _her_ happen.”

“It was her rule! You remember that. Time paradoxes and all.” Steve argued. His shoulders slumped against the hallway. Bucky had a point. He could have just stopped the whole cycle from happening, intercepted Skye or something.

“Remember Steven Grant Rogers,” Bucky said. “Remember you made the choice and forced me along.”

He spun on his heel and stalked down the hallway.

The sun was setting outside the tower, seemingly setting the dark polished wood alight with its rays. Steve watched the rise and fall of Darcy’s chest, committing the curve of her lips and flutter of her eyelash to his memory. How soon _that_ had to happened, he didn’t know. The thought of losing Darcy caught the air in his lungs with an iron grip.

_Please let them come home._

 


	4. Hot damn

_**vii.** _

Darcy ignored him like she did for the last three days, blatantly refusing to look or even speak to him. Her eyes would slide from the door across to the corner where Steve was leaning against the wall and eager to lend a helping hand when needed, to where the congregation of bright minds was delving into another theoretical discussion, not even giving him a blink of recognition. And that, in Steve’s opinion, hurt far more than her original disdainful looks.

The lab busy with the assistants and scientists filtering in and out allowed her disregard for him to be largely unnoticed that is, with the exception of Ian. She would bring the coffee about and tell Ian to pass the coffee to anyone else who hadn’t gotten in despite the fact that she had placed the individual coffees to pretty much everyone else’s tables. During experiments, being the head lab assistant, she would instruct Ian to ‘tell the asshole in the corner to get out’ when they shifted large pieces of delicate equipment. Ian, who was finally being paid for being an Intern (he wasn’t exactly an intern anymore), sucked it up at Steve’s sad puppy eyes until he finally broke. Convincing the rest of the assistants and the three genius scientists was not as difficult as he expected it to be. Most of them had watched the rapidly growing tension with amusement and agreed to change labs without telling Darcy, Ian then locked Steve and Darcy in the lab. _For as long as it takes,_ he told Steve.

She heaved an angry scream at the solid metal doors, eventually sinking onto a stool at the bare lab tables, holding her head between her hands. “Darcy…” Steve moved to the stool beside her and she turned away, resolutely refusing to look at him. “Please Darcy. You have to listen to me.” He covered her hand with his and when she didn’t reclaim it, he counted it as a small victory.

Her body was shaking and she pulled her hand away to cover her face. “What if she’s dead?” She said, her voice was thick and scratchy. Steve turned her stool around and cradled her. She looked at him, his heart breaking at her teary eyes. He thumbed the tears away. “You said you didn’t know what happened to her after you crashed the plane. What if- what if-”

“I know.”

“I can’t do anything to help bring her back!”

“I know.”

“They’re all trying and-” she took a strangled gasp, clutching his shirt. “They just keep burning up on return trip Steve.”

“I understand.”

She took a wavering step back. “No Steve! You don’t! If they can’t _fix_ it, then she can’t come back!” Pushing a hand through her messy hair, she shook her head, palming the fresh wave of tears before turning her back on him. “If she can’t come back, then I’ll never be able to forgive you,” Darcy continued on a small voice.

“I love you Steve,” she told him. “I love you but Skye is more than a best friend.”

“I know you consider her your sister…” Steve said, trying to impede what he thinks she’s going to say.

“And you let _this_ happen willingly. I can’t- I can’t even look at you. It wasn’t as though it was an accident. You _knew!_ I don’t understand how you could have known that. Fine. If you knew _and knew she came back_ then fine. But you didn’t and you still let it happen!” Her body shook in the cold lab temperature or probably exhaustion.

“I-” This was stupid. He had to tell her! He had to tell her that she was.. _had_ to go back. Had to tell her of that one time he saw her and Skye. The memory of them in _there_ had devastated him. He still remembered pulling them out. Oh God, he still remembered her blood on his shirt. Steve still woke up from nightmares of that. He had to let her know what he knew, what would happen. Protect them from what could happen. He feared that if he told her of what would come, he would exacerbate things further. Skye had explicitly reminded him never to tell her and by that extension, Darcy, of the future.

_If we didn’t go back, then we’d never have met. You have to preserve the timelines. Paradoxes and all._

“You don’t understand. I don’t _consider_ Skye to be my sister. You don’t know what she did for me. She- My family-”

 _Oh._ Steve paled remembering of the things Darcy had told him about her abusive father.

“She was one of the kids my _family_ fostered. After I ran away from home, it was her who found me. It was her that pulled me back from the edge. It was her that encouraged me to apply for Culver, to pursue my dreams. This right here-” Motioning to the lab, Darcy wrapped her arms around herself. “This wouldn’t have been possible if it hadn’t been for her. So don’t say you know and _don’t_ say you understand. Because you don’t.”

The things Skye had done and would do for her was far beyond Darcy’s imagination. The irony in her words struck Steve with a bout of mirthless chuckles.

“Paradoxes be damned.” He had to tell Darcy everything.

\-----  

_**viii.** _

It was mid-afternoon by the time she and Bucky came back with the clothes from his sister for her to wear for the time being. Things weren’t exactly massed produced yet which made getting _new_ things difficult for her. Her jeans were good but _proper_ women didn’t exactly wear _men’s_ clothing, not yet common at least.  Becky agreed to teach her to sew her own clothes and when she started giggling at that, they gave her the disapproving face. Part of her wanted to retort heatedly at Rebecca’s and Mrs Barnes’ disapproving looks. She had been too busy fighting for her own survival to bother about _learning to sew_ when she was kid. She! Sew! Mrs Brody would have a laughing fit.

Regardless, she was glad that neither Bucky nor Steve had pursued on why she had no other clothing except the ones on her back but she knew Bucky if not Steve would soon question it. For now, she would have to try to blend into the era with their skirts and _appropriate_ women’s attire. The general era’s male chauvinistic culture set her teeth on edge and chagrined her to _be appropriate._ Thankfully the two yet-to-be-supersoldier men were the minority, that and she was painfully used to their overly protective stance. They meant no harm or disrespect to her general abilities.

Skye tugged the skirt on, fighting with the belt. The cinched waist was something she never enjoyed even in the twentieth century. Staring back at her from the mirror, was a ridiculous version of her. The blue did look good on her, she supposed. It was going to look as good as it got. With a sigh of resignation, she plodded out of the tiny room that was now unofficially hers.

Bucky was sitting on the countertop drinking the thing he called coffee and bathing in the weak spring sunlight that was filtering through the window when she came out of the room dressed in the clothes he had procured from his sister.

“Well?” she tugged the belt down a bit more. Rebecca was slightly smaller than her which meant the clothes clung to her a little tighter than they should have. She shuffled under the two men’s looks, both doing a perfect imitation of a goldfish. “Does it look terrible?”

“Hot damn,” Steve squeaked and spluttered into a coughing fit, his sketchbook tumbling from his grip.

“Breathe Steve,” Bucky slapped Steve’s back from his spot on the countertop, never taking his eyes off her. She floundered under his intense stare and swallowing thickly as the curl of heat pooled at the bottom of her abdomen. “Your hair-” he said finally to her and hoisted himself off the countertop, striding across the small dining room towards her. His warm hands gently brushing her hair and deftly styling it into something similar to his sister’s. Flickering to his lips, Skye pulled her eyes back to his, feeling her cheeks flush as he pursed his lip, licking it slightly with a twitch of his lips. His blue eyes were so dilated that they looked more black than blue, gazing at her with a small smile. His fingers lingered a little moment longer before he pulled back, murmuring, sotto voce, “perfect.”

She arched an eyebrow at him and motioned to the rest of her, not trusting her voice to not fail on her and he gave her a thumbs up. Skye released the breath she didn’t know she was holding when he took a step back, already missing the warmth of his hands. “Well then,” she began after a moment of pause. There were several other things she had to accomplish soon. “Now for a job.”

 _Stark Industries?_ She wondered how plausible it was for her to get a job there. It didn’t seem likely that she would have come across Howard Stark that easily and working her way up would be far too difficult. _Or take far too long._ Only one year left or roughly there. Bucky never mentioned exactly _when_ he left for basic training, but she only had a year left to the next Stark Expo.

\----

**_ix._ **

Nothing felt better than being in her twentieth century jeans, especially sliding herself through the tiny, icky vents that barely fit her. Infiltrating Stark Industries was far easier than she had expected. Trained by Melinda May in martial arts, then The Black Widow in stealth, the ten foot barbed wire fence was a complete and utter joke. Skye couldn’t imagine trying to do this with the ridiculous dresses that Bucky and Steve got for her.

Not that there was anything _wrong_ with them, not when Bucky had that look in his eyes like he did when they met for the first time, they were just… _skirts_ and the material wasn’t as comfortable as what she was used to. It’s hard to sneak about and jump over fences with a skirt and let’s not talk about what they considered bras in this decade. Skye shuddered and swore to wear hers for as long as she could.

There was no one in the labs when she dropped in, not that she had expected anyone to be. This was, after all, Howard’s personal secret labs. Funny how things turned out.

Had it not been for Tony and her had been trying to unearth Howard’s secret _secret_ labs (because a secret lab wasn’t enough) and she had memorised the plans of the old Stark Industries then, she wouldn’t have been able to find Howard’s secret _secret_ lab. The lab was smaller than she remembered it to be, filled with little tools and rolls of paper with diagrams on them just like how Stark and her lab had been back at the Avengers’ Tower. Two days here and she was desperately missing her tech. She still had her phone but she was going to have to figure out how to charge it with 1940s tech. Poking at the _tech_ , her eyes hovered and settled on the archaic machine in the middle of the room before snorting loudly. “Is that supposed to be a computer?”

“How did you get in?” The man froze in mid step as he entered the room through the _secret_ door. Okay, so spinning bookcase doors might have been considered _secret_ enough in the 1940s but when you had vents big enough to fit a small person in, how secret could it be?

“Is this supposed to be computer?” She pointed at the huge machine, arching an eyebrow at the man.

“Yes and I don’t usually _entertain_ honeys here.” Pulling her flush to him, he whispered, “Now. Tell me how did you found this place?”

“Oh the usual way,” she smiled. Two could play that game, especially her. It was like playing with Stark (well, Tony Stark) all over again.

“Great memory and great instinct. By the way-” She tapped the plans on the table. “If you made this out of gold instead of copper and put your CSS microchip into the main matrix, you might improve the performance by.. I don’t know. Three times?”

He blinked, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he tried to process what she said. “Sorry _honey._ ” Skye patted Howard on the cheek with a smile. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

\----

  Skye's outfit in _**viii.**_


	5. Breathe with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Long author’s note:**  
>  I did several boo-boos while writing the time line. Please forgive me if you noticed it. I did research but clearly not enough. Rationing was only introduced in May 1942 and America only formally shifted to war economy after the pearl Harbor in 1941. I followed as much as I could for the first avenger which placed Bucky deployment in 1943 and Steve in 1943 ish late?
> 
> So what I'm trying to say is that Skye's entry into the past should have been early 1941 not 1942. I've corrected it, along with several adjustments which are fairly minor. It's fairly frustrating trying to figure out what it'd have been like then. Historical accuracy is as good as I can get. :(

_**x.** _

It was just past midnight when she arrived back to the apartment blocks where she was temporarily living with Steve and Bucky. Howard had offered her a ride back, but she refused. She didn’t want to be seen by anyone who would have noticed his very conspicuous car, plus the increasingly cold air served to wake her and remind her of the long list of things she had to do. For now, she was in a perfect place in ensure Steve’s acceptance into the program or so she hoped.

Honestly, things could have been a lot worse. She could have been found by other people whose intentions were nothing but bad or she could have been captured by the army which was equally bad for all they had to do was run a blood test on her and notice hers wasn’t human.

How had Steve found her? How had he carried her back? Her mind buzzed with questions that she had not gotten around asking, asking meant opening herself up to questions. And she wasn't sure she was mentally prepared in navigating all time holes. How much could she try to fix? Was she allowed to tell them? How much was she allowed if she decided to tell?

Never mind telling them stuff about them. Was she ready to tell them that she was from the future even to begin with?

The dark moonless sky above seemed to go on forever, the shadows wrapping around every corner. Her feet halted beneath the weak street lamp light. She stared up at the dark building, breathing hard, trying to drag air into her burning lungs. Skye was strong but what wouldn’t she give for Tequila Thursdays with Darcy again and Karaoke Mondays with Jane and Darcy. Just three nights ago she had been lying in bed with Bucky, his arm wrapped around her and feeling like nothing else mattered as long she had him. She still had him, but she wanted _her Bucky_ back, grumpy Bucky who hated broccoli but ate it if she covered it with enough cheese. That smiling man in the two room apartment wasn’t hers.

She gasped, crouching as a jag of agony burnt through her. Wishing so hard for things she couldn't have now that the pain felt real. There were light vibrations across the pavement that were already beginning to grow into something stronger. Skye breathed hoarsely, clutching her neck. The rancid smell of urine only served to remind her that she wasn’t in the twentieth century. No loud cars, loud music, no rambunctious clubs.

_‘Giddyup Bucka-roo!’ She slurred as Bucky piggybacked her, from in front of the club that they had been waiting at and pointed down the street. ‘Down ‘at way! Hidi-ho!’_

_Bucky sighed loudly. ‘Am I the horse again?’_

_Behind Darcy was telling Steve the same thing too. ‘Fashtar!’ she commanded. ‘My Steve-o-dy ish fashtar!_

_‘No! Bucka-roo is fasteer!’ She swung her legs, trying to make Bucky chase after Steve and the two men good naturedly competed to the car. ‘Whars mai wiskey!?’ she blinked blearily when he hoisted her beside Darcy._

_‘No more drinking.’ He tweaked her nose and kissed her forehead, smoothing her fringe. Blue eyes crinkling into slits as he smiled at her._

God, she had to calm herself down before she brought the whole damn street down. The more she tried, the harder it became.

“Breathe!” The low masculine voice commanded and tilted her head onto his chest. “Breathe with me.” He took a slow, deep breath and she mimicked him, holding it before releasing it slowly. It took them several moments before Skye calmed enough down to look up. Bucky’s blue eyes searched her face, his warm hands felt hot on her chilled shoulders. Tugging his jacket off, he wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Thank you.” They were squatting at the corner of the street, under the streetlamp just across their building. “How did you-” She began then realized that anyone who looked out could have seen her. “Why are you still awake?” Skye finally asked.

“You weren’t back yet. Wanted to make sure you got in before I went to bed.” He tucked a loose curl behind her ear and stood up, pulling her up with him. “Are you good?” And then laid a casual hand on her back when she nodded. The warmth of her back reminded her of _her Bucky._ Her Bucky never bothered asking her if she was okay or anything like he didn’t care, except he didn’t ask because he always knew whether or not she was okay. He would place his hand on the small of her back, occasionally nuzzling the nape of her neck when he needed or she needed assurance.

No point crying over it, Skye told herself sternly. She stepped in time with Bucky, his large black shoes parallel to her smaller twentieth century converse, their shoes echoing in the empty street.

“So I moved my stuff out and hung your clothes in my closet,” Bucky said as he opened the door to the lobby. The lobby was dark since it was midnight or past midnight; a glance at her watch said it was close to one in the morning, but she couldn’t really tell.

“What?” She looked up startled. His blue eyes looked luminous in the lobby that was only lit by the outside streetlamp.

“Steve and I agreed that there was no way we could let a lady sleep on the couch.” His eyes crinkled and in the darkness she barely made out his smirk. He placed her hand into the crook of his arm, guiding her up the dark stairwell. “Steve has far too many things to move to my room, so I moved to his.”

Temporarily living with them meant that she had to move out eventually, but with the way Steve and Bucky discussed things, it had begun to feel more and more permanent. “I couldn’t put you out of your room like that.” She murmured with quiet disagreement.

Bucky sighed and placed his hand on her head. “Skye. We love having you around.”

“You just want someone to cook so you dun dun heads don’t need to eat your horrible cooking,” She groused. “Besides I got a job at Stark Industries and I begin tomorrow.”

“You got a what?” Bucky spluttered. “From where?”

“Stark Industries.”

Skye could feel the tension coiling in Bucky’s words. He stilled, his hand moving to clutch hers. They stood there in the shadows, his eyes was filled with inscrutable emotion as he steeled his jaws. “Steve and I could have taken care of you. You didn’t need to get a job.” The calmness in his voice belied the tense muscle Skye felt beneath her hands.

“Yea. But I could,” she shrugged and they lapsed into silence for the last flight of stairs. Stopping right outside their apartment door, she added belatedly, “But it didn't seem right to.”

Bucky pulled open the door. The lamp by the corner window was lit, Skye could see the corner street lamp from where she had been crouching at earlier. The shoes were tugged out of alignment by the door as though he had rushed out in a hurry as was Steve’s jacket. Bucky picked up Steve’s from the ground and she pulled their coats off, shivering from the sudden lack of heat, handing it to Bucky who replaced them onto the coat rack. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. She relaxed in his soothing heat and he set her in a chair beside the small heater, placing a kettle on the connected stove.  “I’m make you coffee but you know how terrible mine is,” he said with a tight smile as he handed her a mug of hot water.

The smile was only reminiscent of what _her_ Bucky used to give her. But it was there. She could see that part of him she was missing. In the lazy warmth of the heater, Skye found herself unable to keep herself awake anything longer.

\----

_**xi.** _

Bucky caught the mug just before it hit the ground. Skye’s grip had loosened as she nodded off to sleep. “Skye?” He tapped her face gently.

She huffed, waving her hand at his hand. “Go back to sleep Bucky,” she mumbled, not even opening her eyes.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. She had gotten a job. Hadn’t trusted him enough to him take care of her. He would have to prove himself. Prove that he could take care of her.

Crouching, he peered up at the sleeping woman, tucking that same unruly curl behind her ear again. Her long eyelashes fanning out across her pale skin. In the dim light, her skin looked aureate with cheeks flushed from where the cold had bitten her. There was a strange rolling feeling in his gut as Bucky watched her, his eyes hovering to her lips that were slightly parted. He resisted the urge to hold her tight and acquiesced only to pick her up and carry her to his- _her_ room. There was a sense of loss when he tucked her into bed. Gently, Bucky brushed her hair over the pillow the way his sister would do when she settled for sleep. He didn’t know why she did that, but surely other ladies did that too. A hand lingering on the soft dark brown hair. He could watch her all day but it’d be disturbing. Honestly, he was mildly alarmed that he felt that. Even with all the dames he had been with, he never quite felt this way towards another lady.

“Sleep well,” he whispered softly and closed the door behind him.

Flipping the light switch off, Bucky trudged to Steve’s room and slipped his shoes off. He lay beside Steve on the small bed, Steve fast asleep on his right but his mind was buzzing too much to fall asleep. The girl in the room next door; the way Steve had found her. There was something different about her, something special, but he could think of nothing that indicated it. It bugged him. He told himself that _that_ was the reason Skye was on his mind. Bucky was perspicacious, he always had been. He was just worried about her. That was it. That had to be why he kept thinking of her.

He shifted to the side, eyes closing, remembering of the way she looked from the back at the stove and the arch of her eyebrow that was quickly becoming familiar and drifted asleep.


	6. See you tomorrow, dolly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyone should know I hate thinking of chp titles, so mine are all random dialogue in the chp.

_**xii.** _

Bucky grinned and spooned sugar into his second cup of coffee. No one made coffee like Skye, not even Mrs Evans down the road who ran a diner. Her coffee was strong with a buttery taste without the overwhelming bitter bite that strong coffee usually had.

“Are you drinking coffee with sugar or sugar with coffee?” Skye mock scolded and slapped his hand away. He huffed but didn’t try to reclaim the sugar bowl. She turned to the sink to wash her face. The white blouse and dark blue skirt with flowers looked so good on her along with the dark blue ankle tie strapped shoes that Steve and him had splurged on for her. A heat crawled over him as he watched her bent over the sink, mesmerized by the curve of the skirt across her ass. He didn’t have to imagine what might be under the skirt, he knew what a girl’s ass looked like having see it all too many times but somehow it struck him differently this time.

Bucky chugged his coffee, trying to distract himself from her curves and the wet nape of her neck as she wiped herself roughly. The knock on the door proved to be a welcome distraction and he shot up immediately to answer it. Bucky wasn’t sure who it could be, but hopefully it wasn’t anything important. He was going to walk Skye to her new workplace and prove that he _could_ take care of her.

A dark haired man was standing at the door smelling and looking for too expensive to be in this neighbourhood. “Hi-de-ho! Is Ms Lewis in?”

“Miss Lewis?” Bucky repeated dumbly, slowly turning to Skye who was dumping the dishes into the sink before turning back to the man. There was no way he couldn’t recognize this man. Howard Stark appeared frequently in the newspapers, always either on about some new invention or featuring in some new scandal. Wasn’t there that scandal about him and Betty Grable?

“Hey there Dolly. Are you ready to go?”

Skye turned around with a smile and tilted her head at Bucky in a form of good bye and left. Bucky watched Skye walk down the hallway and down the stairs with Howard, a frisson of fear and horror running through him. Had she slept with Howard to get the job? Had Bucky messed up so much that she felt she had to go that length to make sure she had work?

A fist of anger shot through him. Frustration. Guilt. All warring inside of him.

\----

_**xiii.** _

The morning started out well enough. Working directly for Howard meant a lot of security badges. There was a certain irony when she considered that in a few decades from now, she would be the security specialist for SI. Regardless, she was the only female among the _elite_ eight engineers which left a certain impression on them - meaning they had immediately scoffed at her. Stane had taken one look at her and said, “Howard, do I need to remind you that bringing women into the lab doesn't help you with productivity?”

A flare of rage shot through Skye, but before she could retort, she was immediately cut off by Howard who gestured to the machine that she had helped Howard ‘fix’ the night before. “What do you think of the new changes?” He asked with a smirk, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh it’s great! I can’t believe none of us thought of that,” Stane laughed, dismissing Skye with a look, and tapped the new schematics that ironically were painfully hand drawn by her. No, just because she was a hacker didn’t mean she couldn’t pick up a few things. Skye let a smile spread across her face as she watched Howard cross the room to the schematics, quickly realizing what Howard was planning to do.

“Yes. It’s quite ingenious isn’t it? Replacing the copper with gold.” He raised his finger. “Not just any kind of gold but gold with what was it?” Howard cocked his head to her.

“Beryllium. With a 0.0005 inch diameter,” Skye supplied readily, watching on as the glee on Stane’s face began fading fast.

“Ah yes.” He turned back to Stane, and he tapped the schematics. “I can’t believe none of us thought of that, or this.” His eyes were hard and mirthless, at that very moment, Skye could see where Stark had gotten his cold and cynical attitude from. “But Miss Lewis did.”

“Sure with some help-” Stane began, raising his palms up as though to convey some kind bigoted honesty.

Howard shook his head. “Don’t you have a meeting to attend?” He said tersely.

“Howard-”

He waved Stane away and motioned to Skye to come over. “What do you think of the vacuum tubes? We were just trying these but it didn’t turn out so well...”

“What about electric switches to drive the relay instead? Or even-” Skye pursed her lips, all too keenly aware of Stane’s burning stare on her back but she didn’t care, he was an asshole through and through. She had considered that perhaps he might not have been that bad in the beginning, now she wondered if Stane had been working for Hydra all along. It was possible, right?

Frowning, she focused on remembering some of the technical sketches Tony had shown her. “See if we connected the wires with gold connectors and add the switches here, we could increase the relay speed by-” She shrugged, not really aware of how slow the technology was in the 1940s. “Six times?”

The other eight engineers, now intrigued by what she had brought to the table and aware of her _real_ worth, now began plying her with questions.

By the time the smell of food came, ten hours had drifted by in a haze and she hadn’t even realized it. “Shit. Dinner-” She grabbed her things, ready to rush out when Stark- _Howard Stark_ grabbed her. She was going to have to decide to call which Stark, Stark and which by the first name.

“Miss Lewis? Where are you going?”

Skye turned. _Shouldn’t have used Darcy’s family name, it sounds so damn weird coming from his lips._ “Mister Stark, I have not made dinner yet.”

“Oh. I sent word ahead and food as well. Don’t worry.”

“But-” _I’m hungry!_

Howard had a manic gleam in his eyes, though, one she recognised all too well. “There’s food coming in here too. Come on, Miss Lewis, we’ve almost got this, I can feel it…”

\----

_**xiv.** _

Dinner at home was a surprisingly expensive take out that Steve had brought home. The seat that Bucky had grown accustomed to seeing Skye sit in was noticeably empty. “Where’s Skye?”

“She said that Mister Stark had dinner brought in so she wouldn’t be coming back for dinner. And Mister Stark sent these.”

Stark. Stark again.

The food that he had been enjoying now tasted like sand in his mouth. His knuckles clenched the cup. Bucky knew he was getting irrationally angry but he couldn’t quite stop himself. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking of what Howard might be doing to Skye. If Betty Grable was nothing to Howard, then Skye would be nothing as well. Howard would use her and throw her aside.

_Skye having dinner with Howard._

Oh no. Things wouldn’t stop there. He knew it all too well. Howard would be making passes at Skye until she fell for him.  Howard might take advantage of her when she was going too far in trying to pay them back. What had he done to make her think that she had to pay them back?

Bucky glanced at Steve who munched happily on the rare and very scrumptious food. Was it Steve?  Could she have seen Steve as someone that might need to be taken care of? He could understand that, there was an innate instinct when he looked at Steve. Frustrated, he stood up abruptly. “Going to Joe’s,” he told Steve who looked at him puzzled. “Need a drink.” Bucky added though it was a given. No one went to Joe’s bar for food because that was akin to going to the grocer to buy bacon. Without waiting for a response, he stormed out of the house. It drove him crazy how a single dame could have shaken him up so much. Had it been any other lady, he would have shrugged it off and dismissed it without a second thought.

Skye. The woman that suddenly entered his life with a whirl, quite literally if Steve had been telling the truth. In a spiralling, vacillating light in the middle of the alley. He hadn’t gone around asking her about it, his ma had always told him to not ask questions to answers he didn’t want and he hadn’t decided whether he wanted the answer that much yet.

Skye… _Lewis?_ She hadn’t told them her last name, stubbornly sticking to her having no family name. Was she perhaps related to the great Lewis empire? Bucky chuckled sardonically. What was she doing in a garbage apartment with two men she didn’t even know, sleeping with Howard Stark for a job?

No. That was why she drove him crazy. He had to make sure that she wasn’t doing anything rash, it was like a female Steven all over again. Like she had to prove herself or something, the same way Steve always said. He’d just have to persuade her and make her understand that she didn’t need to they didn’t ask for her help and that they were getting on fine on their own.

Bucky rounded the block, feet stilling. There she was, getting out of the car with the Howard Stark. Howard’s hand on the small of her back, his slimy hands on her shoulders; Bucky was making his way to the duo before he realized it, “There you are,” he said to Skye, voice so tight that it almost sounded like a snarl.

Skye spun to him startled, “Oh. What are you doing here?”

Here? He was already four blocks away from their apartment without realizing it. She cocked her head at him, her curls falling onto her shoulder, catching last rays of the sun. His heart hiccuped at the curve of her lips though she said nothing back when he laconically replied something that he couldn’t really remember.

“I’ll walk her back,” he nodded at Mr Stark.

Stark sighed loudly, “Good. Miss Lewis here _insisted_ I drop her off here. It’s ridiculous.” He brushed her soft curls. “See you tomorrow, dolly.” He motioned a finger in a kind of lazy salute before turning and sliding back into his car.

They walked in silence for another two blocks, her heat beside him felt like a furnace. Bucky found he was at lost at what to say to her. Just moments ago, he had a whole tirade to say to her, but he wasn’t sure how to start without making her upset, he didn’t want that.

Surprisingly it was Skye who broke the long and very awkward silence first. “You’re really quiet.” He quirked an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes at him. “You talk a lot.”

“I do?” The familiar smirk that Bucky called upon when talking to dames slid across his face. He wasn’t all that great with dames, regardless of the stories Steve would spin about him. Steve was terrible with dames even little ladies. _Anyone_ was better than him.

She shrugged, her eyes searching his face for something but Bucky wasn’t sure what. He had seen that look on her a few times and it felt like she was seeing him at the same time looking past him like a double image or something in him. “You… sort of like to fill with chatter but you’re not speaking today.” Skye hesitated, lifted her shoulders as though surrendering herself to something that Bucky couldn’t see and asked, “What’s on your mind?”

Unsure on how to respond to her oddly astute observation, he considered her question for a few moments, trying to find an appropriate response to her question. There wasn’t any that he could think of so he decided to face it head on. “You didn’t have to.... get a job,” he started.

She rolled her eyes upwards. “Are we talking about me getting a job? There’s nothing wrong with me getting a job.”

“But it’s not… needed.” He insisted. “We were- _are_ fine. You don’t have to…  go so far to get a job.”

They had reached the apartment’s lobby by then. Bucky, eager to return to his apartment, didn’t notice the pale blotches on her cheeks and the incensed eyes that stared at him. “Go so far?” Her voice was quiet and she jerked him back to the side of the stairs, forcing him to turn to look at her.  “What do you mean _go so far_? James Buchanan Barnes, what are you trying to imply by _go so far_?”

“You didn’t have to- have to-” He casted a glance down the hallway. Her unwavering eyes seemed to bore into him with a sort of heat that scorched his very soul; accusing despite him simply trying to protect her, “-sleep with Stark just for a job there.”

A roaring sound filled Skye’s ears, swamping all other emotions that swirled in her and leaving only anger left. “ _What_? What did you say?” She jerked away. “You thought I slept with Howard for a job?”

“Didn’t you?” he snarled back. “Stark’s notorious for his womanizing; I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he’d hire someone in exchange.”

“But I _didn’t_!” she yelled at him. “I would _never_ do something like that! And even if I did, what right do you have to judge me over it?! Maybe I want a job so I can stand on my own, instead of depending on the charity of two men who found me on the street yesterday!”

She tugged her arm out of his, taking several wavering steps back; her lips pressed into a thin line as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Fuck you, Barnes.” With that she ran up the stairs, the slam of their door resounding in stairway.

He pinched his nose, with a heave of breath. _That went just fantastic._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chp is a bit meh but important. That's it I think! It's about to begin our downhill glide when things start to go to pits. :) Because of me keeping the timeline between Darcy & Skye the same, Present!Darcy and Present!Steve hasn't appeared in the last 2 chps, yes she'll appear next chp. 
> 
> See you guys in 3ish -4ish days! (I hope)


	7. Why didn't you say anything?

**xv.**

Darcy stared at Steve in disbelief, horror washed over her as he told her the whole story. She shook her head, “I don't understand. What do you mean by I'll be in the past as well? Are you saying-” she motioned with her hands, her throat burning as she swallowed the rising panic. “Are you saying if I don't go back, then Skye might die?”

Steve clasped his hands, elbows digging into his thighs as he watched her from across the living room. “I don't know. I wish I had more to give… More information to go in from-” he ran a hand through his hair with a wry chuckle and spread his hands out. “But that's really all I know. At some point in my past and your future, we'll meet at a Hydra base… And… you'll be holding on to Skye… And all the blood. I don't know what happened or how.. or even if the blood is hers or… Someone else’s...” he continued on, each word seemingly like a rip of his flesh, the coldness in his voice undermined by the light tremulous shake.

Darcy gulped down the cup of liquor, barely tasting the 60 year old whiskey. Tony would have been appalled at the way she drank it. In the six months that they had been together, Steve and never once insisted that she needed a drink or even poured one for her without her requesting. She had been entirely apprehensive when he made her a whiskey on the rocks and literally shoved her into the communal couch with the cup in her hand. And now she knew why.

She poured another cup and shot it down. “I always knew you didn't fall in love with me at first sight,” she said at length.

Surprised coloured Steve's face at her words. “You did?”

“Yea, you sort of have a…” she pointed at his jaw then touched her with a roll of her shoulders, “a tell tale sign. You know.”

Darcy never quite announced that she catalogued each micro expression, she just didn't. With her track of terrible _boyfriends_ it was hard for her to trust anyone but Skye and lately Jane; it sounded ridiculous even to her, how could one not trust Captain America?  She told herself to put herself out there and time and time again but a lifetime of habit was hard to break.

Steve touched his jaw with an arch of his eyebrow. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“It was cute. Plus it didn't seem like a harmful secret.” Darcy turned away from Steve’s piercing blue eyes, sweeping across the empty communal living room with her own; she could see Steve was ready to hug her and try to hide her away from the world if he could. It wasn’t that she minded, it just that she was fed up with being the weakest link. The one everyone thought they had to protect. Maybe it was why she and Skye got along so well; they looked out for each other, each pulling their own weight. Sure, it was hard to keep up when the people doing the guarding were literal superheros. But she wasn’t a child, and she didn’t need them to lock her away from everything dangerous.

Unlike the other superheroes in the tower, she and Skye didn’t exactly broadcast their troubled past. Skye didn’t have a say in it when the shit about her _family_ hit the fans, but Darcy did and Skye had always made sure that her past was hidden from the public eye; especially since she was now officially Captain America’s girlfriend.

She took another shot, slamming the glass onto the hard mahogany coffee table and hooked her feet up onto the couch, not caring if her shoes were dirtying the white leather. “I have no issues with going back for Skye.” No. Going back for Skye was never the issue. After how Skye had came back for her while on the run and put her through college, Darcy would have walked through fire for her elder sister (even if technically she was older). “But the others? I don’t see how I’m going to bust into any Hydra base let alone carry someone out while exploding it into some majestic fiery death. I’m awesome but not _that_ awesome.”

Darcy was all too keenly aware of the lack of her fighting abilities.

It had been clear since grade school that her speciality had been her brain, dissecting information, cataloguing it instantaneously while others were still processing it. Skye had her _hyperspeed_ thought processes (not literally hyperspeed, it just that she thought about stuff really fast) and Darcy had her cataloguing speed, while she wasn’t as good as Skye was in hacking, together they were an invincible duo. So Darcy had never quite bothered to learn to fight, she stuck to her tasers and with the combination of snarky mouth and micro expressions, she and Skye took down anyone who tried to double cross them.

Her hand hovered on the whisky bottle and let it fall back onto her lap. “Okay. So-” she looked up, blue eyes catching blue eyes, “what now?”

“First, Sam will teach you emergency medical procedures. Romanoff and Barton have agreed to give you defence classes for hand-to-hand combat and ranged weaponry.” Unlike his _Steve_ voice, his Captain America’s tone was cold, calculating, and demanded to be obeyed. Darcy could see how he had gotten Tony to listen to him on the field.

She stood and her knees buckled. With a combination of prolonged working, exhaustion, stress and probably the fact that she couldn’t remember the last time she had a real meal, Darcy wasn’t surprised that her legs ceased to hold her, dumping her back onto the couch. Steve was crouching by her in an instant, his hand gingerly thumbing her cheekbones. “After you have a proper meal, sleep and shower okay?” She nodded and he kissed her slowly and carefully but all Darcy could think of was how the man with the metal arm was now without his girlfriend.

\----

_**xvi.** _

It had been a full week since Skye properly spoke to Bucky. She wasn't doing it because she was still mad at him, it was more of awkward than mad. After she had stomped in and laid in the bed, she realized his assumption was pretty valid. Stark had spoken of how his father had gone by gallivanting with a new woman every week, Skye had personally seen it. She didn’t want to apologize, she wasn’t in the wrong but at the same time, any conversation with Bucky felt weird. His looks felt like they were judging her.

“Miss Lewis,” Howard began.  Contrary to his womanizing reputation, Howard had put so much effort into giving her full respect that she didn’t think the man had ever given another woman. “I have a friend- Alan Turing, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of him-” he started but Skye had already spun to him.

Alan Turing? Who in the tech world had not heard of him? That was like impossible! Was she going to get to meet him? Skye could hear herself screaming _Oh my god!_ over and over in her head.

“He’s building a secret machine… would you like to-”

“YES!” She clapped her hands together, bouncing for joy. “Yes, yes, yes, yes!”

“Good. We’ll leave tomorrow.” Howard’s eyes danced with merriment at her excited jumping. “I’ll create some papers for you.”

\----

_**xvii.** _

Darcy leapt, her body rolling and coming up into a crouch. Clint’s arrow missed her narrowly when she jumped back, catching Natasha’s punch. Natasha’s earlier kick had clipped her in the diaphragm, making breaths hard to catch. She sprung, throwing a kick at Natasha that she evaded. Darcy feinted towards Natasha before throwing herself towards Clint.

Another roll, she swept Clint off the rug and in one swift movement, kicked herself off the wall. Her hand reached for the knife that Clint had dropped earlier, spinning around, she jumped as Clint tried to sweep kick her. Knife in her hand, Darcy swung it but Natasha had given her a good solid roundhouse kick in the gut. Darcy fell, sprawled onto the mats. Her breaths were coming in harsh gasps and it took her several moments before she pulled herself into a sitting position, spitting the blood onto the ground.

“Gross.” Clint said and held a hand out to help her up, which she took gratefully.

“Better.” Natasha nodded, throwing the towel at her. “But not good enough.”

“I’m really regretting not taking gym class seriously when I was in high school,” Darcy said with a wince. Not that she attended high school. She toweled her face and neck dry, cracking her neck as she shook her wrists. “Okie dokie. I’m ready,” she said to Natasha who only gave her a roll of eyes before throwing a punch at her for another round.

Training with the Widow _and_ the Hawkeye had been a nightmare, gruelling beyond belief and it made her feel like they were tearing her apart. Her body had been bruised over and over again that her bruises were no longer bruising. Good news was that her G cup was now a moderate F cup.

At the same time, it gave her a sense of relief. It felt like she was finally doing something to contribute to getting Skye back; it was an illusion and she knew it but it still made her feel better. Her days were beginning to blur together and without her realizing it, a week had passed before she had time to pop back into the labs at midnight.

Unsurprisingly, only Jane was in the labs, pottering about the whiteboards, marker in her hand and staring at the equations. There was a streak of black ink across her right cheek and bags under her eyes. Skye’s absence clearly had been felt by Jane as well. She wasn’t entirely surprised to be honest; Skye had become a large part of Jane’s life ever since they met at New Mexico, patient and always a voice of sanity when Jane went on her science benders. At the same time, Jane always had been pulled into their shenanigans, mostly against Erik and she’d follow on, not really knowing what’s going on until it hit her.

“Janey?” Darcy touched her shoulder lightly. Jane jerked and spun around, eyes widening comically.

“Darcy?” Jane ran a hand down her face, smearing the ink further. “Did you test it yet?”

“Test?” She arched an eyebrow then glanced at the machine that Jane motioned at.

Jane waved her over, carrying the machine to the centre of the room and placed it securely down. There were lines marked out on the floor and several scorched points. A stack of papers were sprawled out across the table, writings and writings of it all in Jane’s handwriting were on it. “Janey? When did you last sleep?” Darcy lifted her head, watching the skinny woman bustle about the machine.  “Janey?” She repeated, recognizing Jane’s deflecting methods when asked with a question that she didn’t want to answer. “J?” Darcy asked.

“Miss Foster has been awake for four days and thirteen hours,” Jarvis provided, sounding a little disapproving.

“No. I just woke up three hours ago,” Jane asserted. The bags on her eyes said otherwise.

“According to the regulations and codes, a fifteen minute nap does not equate to a full cycle sleep and therefore, you have been awake for four days and thirteen hours.”

Darcy pursed her lips. In the agony of losing her only family, she had forgotten that Skye was a friend to Jane as well. _A real asshole moment there_ , she told herself. “Janey. You need to sleep. Remember what we said about three-day science bender?” The words died in her words at the realization of who _we_ included. Darcy blinked away the hot prick in her eyes; she’s cried enough, she refused to cry anymore.

From Jane’s trembling form beside the machine, it was obvious that she had remembered the same thing. Skye waltzing in and carrying Jane out with her screaming, _For Science!_

“It was my fault Darcy,” Jane looked up, reaching out to Darcy. Darcy strode towards up, dragging her, wrapping her in an embrace. “That was _my_ machine! I sent her back! I have to fix this! I can fix it!” She pulled away, running to the whiteboards that covered the entire right side wall of the labs.

Jane pointed at the numerous equations that extended across it, “Look! I’ve isolated the conditional inequality that will fix the absolute convergence.” She flipped through the whiteboards, sliding them to reveal the ones behind it. “This hyperbola between the loci of time and distance was causing the issue of the burning up. I fixed it! It’s completed, it was successful but no one dared to use it because it’s untested on humans-” Jane panted, opening and closing her mouth, body wavering before collapsing to the ground.

“Jane!” Darcy cried and hurried to her. “J! Call for Bruce or the medic on duty and Thor!”

She hovered over Jane, patting her face to rouse her and checking her pulse. It was a little erratic and Jane wasn’t waking. “Oh my god, oh my god! Sam didn’t cover this!!!” She flailed wildly and was shoved aside unceremoniously by Bruce and his assistant.

“Jane, can you hear me?” Bruce asked, squeezing her hand tightly and when he was unable to elicit any response, he turned her on the side, fingers prying her mouth open as he checked her airways. “Patient unresponsive. No airway obstruction. Still breathing. Fast pulse. Give me the defibrillator and put in two large bore IV cannulae - and check her blood pressure.”

He took the defibrillator running through the motions rapidly with the assistant. Was she going to lose Jane as well? A roaring sound filled her ears, swamping all her other senses as she stared at them in horror, not really registering the large warm hand on her shoulder until Bruce gave her a small smile. “She’s just dehydrated and overexerted herself.”

Only then did Darcy release the breath that she did not know she was holding. Thor smiled at her.

“Well I’m prescribing two days of bed rest. I’ll be bringing her up to the med ward so there’ll be someone to force her to stay in bed.” Bruce nodded tiredly. The assistant placed Jane onto the stretcher and pushed her out, Thor trailing behind, giving her questioning glance upon noticing that Darcy had not followed.

Darcy shook her head, wrapping her arms around her. “I’ll-” she started and waved to the mess of papers all around. “-Clean up…” she finished lamely. Without an argument, Thor left her to her own devices, his footsteps rapidly disappearing along with the clatter of wheels.

She stared around the lab. With the progression of Jane’s research of the Bifrost and inter-realm quantum polarities, the lab and assistants helping her had become bigger and came from far more prestigious colleges, yet none of them had bothered to make sure Jane had proper rest and food. Darcy picked up the papers from the ground, shuffling through them as she tried to organize them.

_It’s completed, it was successful but no one dared to use it because it’s untested on humans._

Could she? Turning to the machine in the room, she stepped hesitantly towards it.

_At some point in my past and your future, we'll meet at a Hydra base._

She wasn’t ready yet, all the combat and medicine stuff, yet the thought of Skye being held in a Hydra base made her stomach curdle. She rushed out of the room, towards the medicine room that Sam had shown her all the supplies, pulling a haversack out, she dumped whatever medication that might be useful. Then, ignoring Jarvis’ very insistent voice, Darcy made her way to the armoury. She switched into the light armour that she had been training with; her hands reached for the two pistols, sliding them into holsters.

“Knife-” the low masculine voice behind her said.

Startled, she spun around. Bucky was at the doorway, holding out two military knives and a roll of throwing knives.

“You knew?” Darcy hazarded a question.

“Guessed.”

“You’re not going to stop me?”

He raised his eyes, unwavering despite the war of emotions in his blue eyes; there was a hint of guilt and fear in his jaws but he only shrugged, giving her a tight stretch of his lips - far too thin and visceral to be a smile. “No.”

They stopped outside the labs and Bucky gestured with his head to the hallway where the stomping of feet began to rise in volume, “I’ll buy you time.”

Darcy pulled him to a hug and whispered, “I’ll bring her back.”

“I’ll- hold you to that.” His voice sounded tight as if he had to strain to get it to work.

Darcy stepped up to the machine. According to the papers, Jane had already set it up, Darcy snapped the bracelet onto her wrist and the matching one into the inner pocket of her armour. She could hear the yelling in the hallway, her ears picking up on Natasha’s, Steve’s and Bucky’s heatedly arguing.

“Darcy!” Clint swung out of the vent just as she pressed down the button on her bracelet. She saw Clint mouthing words that she couldn’t hear, the ground beneath her seemingly opening up to a dark void. A feeling of falling backwards and floating overcame.

Then nothing.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this being later than I usually post.. :(


	8. You're going where?

**xvii.**

“You’re going where?” Steve gaped as they watched Skye shuffle things into the suitcase that Stark had given her.

“London.” She placed her finger on lips and said with a wink, “very top secret.”

“But they bomb London!” Bucky yelled. She was going to be the death of him! Flying straight to where the fire was hot!  He resisted the urge to punch something; he couldn’t afford to push her further away. Was she doing this to get away from him? Was she that angry at him? “Skye- please, listen. London’s really dangerous.”

“Yes and right now the world is at war-”

“America isn’t,” Bucky interjected.

“We will be. _Soon._ ”

He shook his head. “America’s safe.” Skye scoffed. Picking up her suitcase, she stood in front of him; Bucky could smell the scent that was uniquely hers despite the lack of perfume. “Skye. There are other people other there that are equally capable. You don’t have to go,” he said softly.

“You don’t get it. This is one war you can’t escape. And you still don’t see me as anything more than a female. I don’t need to be protected or coddled-”

“But I want to!” He gripped her by the shoulders, her shoulders felt so small beneath his hands. His heart was beating so loudly in chest that Bucky was certain that Steve and Skye could hear it. Fear rushed over him like a tidal wave, washing out all other sensation except the nauseating bile at the back of the throat. She would go, and she might get herself killed if she was anything like Steve and then he’d never see her again.  Bucky struggled to break the silence that lapsed between them and her stony look, but nothing came out.

She brushed past him and stepped out of the apartment, her footsteps clipping in brisk pace  down the stairs. Bucky froze, allowing Steve drag him after her, watching Stark step up to her to pick up her suitcase. He opened his mouth to call her, to say something and the sound of her name on his lips was drowned out by the slam of her door.

Skye looked up at him through the open window; her large brown eyes stared at him, flickering across his face in that way she had that she seemed to look right past him. Her hand reached for his and he savoured her warmth in his grip, a feeling that he might never feel again. “Skye-” he began.

“I’ll write.”

 _Letters don’t get successfully sent half the time_ , he thought and she squeezed his hand before letting go and reaching for Steve to repeat it. And on that corner of the block of flats that he had lived almost all his life, Bucky never felt more alone, watching the view of the car fade into the distance.

\----

**xix.**

Skye had forgotten how slow planes used to be. The plane ride that was barely five hours on the quinjet was a good long ten hours (if weather conditions permitted) in the 1940s. She had spent the first hour fiddling with their prototype, the second hour reading Jane Austen again, spent another six hours sleeping. She missed using her phone, she missed her e-books, her music, her headphones. God, she missed texting Bucky. Her hands unconsciously curled around her Starkphone tucked deep in her skirt pockets. She hadn’t gotten around to designing a charger for it yet and honestly, she debated if she wanted to.

The longer she stayed here, the less it felt that she was ever going to get to go _back._ If and when she stopped Bucky from becoming the Winter Soldier, how much of the future she knew would be the same? Was it going to be like the Back to the Future? Or maybe Doctor Who?

Hadn’t Logan mentioned something about going back in time once? Skye wished she had paid more attention to the gruff mutant, she bit nail as she stared out of the window. The sky was one thing that remained the same through the decades. The last time she had been on a plane ride, it had been on a mission with the Avengers. Was it Doctor Doom? Outside, the blue sky was a vast difference to the twilight sky in her memory. It had been classifiable as a good mission. The Hulk wasn’t needed, no casualties except for Stark’s pride. Then Stark had mentioned it must have been almost three years since she had joined the team. Bucky fiddled with the rings he wore with his old dogtags and never said a word until they got back to the apartment.

Was it possible that Bucky knew? Skye clasped her fingers, eyebrows furrowing in thought. Was it possible that Steve and Bucky knew her before she knew them? Sent her back. No, they wouldn’t have.

“Here. Something to occupy your time.” Howard handed her the papers opened to a crossword puzzle, breaking her out of her reverie. Skye patted her coat for a pencil and found only a pen.

“I’ve only got this,” she held up the pen and watched Howard pat himself for one before pulling out another pen.

“Only got a pen too.”

Skye shrugged. “It’s all right. I’ll just use this then.” Uncapping the pen, she paused at the instructions. “I don’t _really_ have to do this in ten minutes, do I?”

Howard chuckled and shook his head. “No, take your time. It is a ten hour plane ride after all. Well we are roughly three-quarters there. Maybe another hour or two.”

Skye stared at the puzzle, her words murmuring the possible answers as she figured them out. This puzzle was only about trivia knowledge and nothing like the whole jargon garbage, it was almost amateurish at best.   Skye scoffed at the memory of those times where Jemma and Stark - _Tony_ had constantly fed her, those were ridiculously difficult.  Once one had done crossword puzzles on quantum physics and theoretical mechanics, anything else was easy.

Her pen made quick work of the puzzle despite her not really paying attention to it. It had taken double the time it would have taken her had she not dwelled on her memories. How long ago had it been since she saw Jemma? They hadn’t parted on good terms when she left for the Avengers’ Tower and now it was too late to take back her acerbic comments even if Jemma had deserved them.

She swallowed the memories, burying it deep beneath her carefree facade and tossed the paper at Howard who looked at it surprised. “That’s fast.” He said, glancing at his watch and staring at the paper. “Oh, Alan is going to be excited.”

She was going to get to see her hero, Alan Turing and meet her inspiration, Joan Clarke, work with them. _Work with them._ She was going to get to meet Alan Turing and Joan Clarke! Skye shot up from her seat. Holy shit! How did she not register that until now? She cupped her mouth, trying to force herself to breathe deep, slow breaths, her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. Not directly when they got off the plane, right? She’d have time to clean up? She ran a light hand over her curls, checking her makeup.

Alan Turing and Joan Clarke.

Starkphone, please work long enough to snap a photo with them.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is late.. like really late, but I had to rewrite this chp due to.. timeline issues and to make it not confusing. Forgive me?


	9. There’s always a choice. A choice to live, a choice to die.

**xx: Skye, 1941**

Alan was at the entrance when Skye and Howard arrived at Bletchley Park late that evening.

“Alan!” Howard pulled him into a large hug. “I’ve brought reinforcements and new equipment.”

Alan dismissed Skye with a look and gave Howard a suffering sigh. “Really, Howard? I don’t have time for more imbeciles.”

“Oh. She’s far from imbecile. She’d probably put all your other helpers to shame.” Howard slapped the newspaper onto Alan’s chest and he looked at it, confused.

“You gave her the answers?” Alan frowned.

“No, she did it by herself in twenty minutes.”

“In pen,” Alan deadpanned, his eyebrows raising into his hairline. “And it’s correct.” He regarded her in a new light, lips thinning into a strange smile that seemed to give him some form of cathartic relief. “It’s good to meet you, Miss Clarke,” he held his hand out to her and Skye pursed her lips.

“I’m sorry, what?” She glanced at Howard who held out a piece of paper.

An identification paper. Joan Elisabeth Clarke born 1917 with her picture on it. Skye gaped at it for several moments, doing a perfect imitation of a goldfish before she pulled herself toward from the huge time paradox that must have just occurred. “This isn’t-”

“It’s easier to make papers with records of someone who already existed,” Howard laughed in response and wheeled Alan around to the back of the truck where the prototypes were being carted out by his men. “New equipment! Now I know you were talking about rotors-”

“What is this? This isn’t the rotors I asked for. Howard. I asked specifically for rotors with the diameter of-” He frowned at the rotors and inspected them. Skye couldn’t help but feel butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Not only did it end up with her being Joan Clarke, the woman she had worshipped all her life but Alan Turing, THE ALAN TURING, was inspecting her own designs. Sure the designs might have started out as copies of what she remembered from Tony Stark’s copies of his father’s work, but there were so many gaps in what she could remember that she filled it out with her own knowledge, not that she was as good as Tony Stark or Fitz, but it was definitely better than what they were still imagining in this era.

Howard couldn’t even imagine a computer that could do multiple tasks, let alone one that fit her own palm. The weight of her Starkphone burnt in her pocket. No taking it out when anyone was around. She was going to have to be very careful.

“You designed this?”

“Brilliant isn’t it?” Howard grinned.

“This is far better than what I had imagined-” Alan tapped his fingers on lips. “This is perfect, we can-” Grabbing onto Skye’s hand, he began rattling off the things they could work on to finish the machine faster without so much as a preamble.

Alan Turing holding her hand… she could die happy now. Well. She could die happier if she finished the enigma with Alan. Skye mentally jumped for joy, but her stomach still somersaulted with worry. How advanced and how quick could she push? Would she adversely change history?

She bit her lip, letting Alan pull her through the room. ‘ _Careful Skye,_ ’ she told herself sternly. If she had to forgo all the other people to prioritise saving Bucky, then she would do it. Even if that meant she was a horrible person. Helping Alan Turing was just another step to convincing Howard _and_ that old man that she was worthy of being in the SSR.

She would let the world burn if it’d save Bucky from those seventy years of torture. But she hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

\-----

**xxi. Steve, 2015**

Steve was sitting in Darcy’s apartment, staring blankly at the scattered photographs of her and Skye. There was that photograph of the four of them at that beach, Skye was on top Bucky’s shoulders and Darcy was on his and they were all bent from laughing at a remark that Stark had made while he was taking the photo. It hadn’t even been than a month since Darcy had left. Honestly, he should have considered that Darcy was entirely capable of doing that. It shouldn’t have surprised him. She had proven over and over the things she would do for Skye and Skye would do for her. Hell, she wasn’t even above blackmailing the Winter Soldier when Bucky came back. Not even Natasha was that fearless - though that was debatable if seriously considered.

Their lives were wrought in some convoluted time drama. Meeting Skye’s past self then meeting Skye’s future self for the first time. Both at different points of their lifetimes with different experiences. There had been more than one time that Steve wondered how Bucky could stand watching Skye and knowing of all the things to come but unable to talk about it. Steve was glad he and Darcy had been a largely parallel experience; meeting Darcy for the first time, falling in love together, their first kiss.

Bucky and Skye never had that. How painful it must have been for Skye to be in the past to see the man she loved still hadn’t loved her. Steve reminded himself that Bucky had Steve to reminisce about _their_ Skye, Skye in the past didn’t. Had she suffered?

When he came to the future, he had been aloof to her; polite but aloof and his attitude had irked Bucky to no end. Steve was being a dick for being aloof to Skye, but he couldn’t ask all the questions that he wanted because Skye hadn’t even experienced it yet - she _hadn’t_ _met_ them. Not yet at least. Before the serum, Skye had always been the one that saw him for what he really was and when he found out that she was from the future, it had always plagued him whether she had treated him well because she _knew_ what he would turn out to be or if she really did appreciate him as a person. Had she told him about Darcy because she knew that he would be together with Darcy later?

He heard someone entering, probably Bucky and Tony but he couldn’t muster the effort to greet them. Bucky was going to sit opposite him and look at with accusing eyes or perhaps not so much accusing now that Darcy had followed Skye’s footsteps.

“Regretting it?” Tony took a swig of the whisky and sank onto the seat beside him before turning on a lamp. Steve hadn’t bothered to turn on a light, he hadn’t even moved from that spot since… he couldn’t remember. The second person - Clint - shoved a bag full of sandwiches in face, dropping it onto his lap when Steve refused to take it. So they had decided to make an appearance. At least Bucky wasn’t here. Steve didn’t think he could face Bucky yet.

“Maybe-” Steve sighed. “We could have gone back. Stop it all.”

Tony shrugged. “You could have ripped a hole in time as well, conversely, calculations of timeline consistencies if you assume Skye being X, Darcy being Y, your past selves as Z and W, all agree that Z’ and W’ meeting at any point of time out of Alpha timeline would have spontaneously combusted. But if we’re talking about divergent timelines, X and Y would have got to Beta time and returned to Alpha and thus not causing any damage if Z’ and W’ met each other.”

“Basically… you’re saying…” Steve tried to wrap his mind around what Tony was saying and got tripped over the Alpha and Beta.

“Basically, there was a 80% chance of either you two burning into something like the Guy Fawkes Day?” Tony raised an eyebrow at the two men’s puzzled looks, sighed dramatically and motioned wildly with his hands. “Big fire. WHOOSH. Good bye Super soldier.”

“So there was no choice but to let them go back?”

“There’s always a choice. A choice to live, a choice to die. That it doesn’t mean you’ll always take those choices,” Clint replied.

“Birdbrain has a point, as much as it grates me to agree with him.” Tony ducked the flying pillow that Clint threw at him. “We have no concrete evidence on what happened to them afterwards or might have happened if you didn’t make the choice to let them go back and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have risked it because along with the possibility of Hydra taking over the world and, or either them never being born, I think letting them go back had been the best.”

Somehow the confirmation from Tony that they indeed had done the right thing didn’t provide the cathartic relief that Steve thought it would, it was however, better than nothing.

\----

**xxii: Bucky, 1941**

If Bucky thought he could forget the girl once she had swept out of their lives, he was completely wrong. His bed didn’t smell of him anymore, it smelt like her musky natural scent and there were mornings where Bucky wished he could say lay there and breathe in her smell, pretending she was in his arms.

One month and his pillow was steadily smelling less of her and more of him. A hollow pang shot through him. He wasn’t just missing her, was he? It had taken Bucky a whole month to realise that trying to convince himself that he worried about her was because she reminded him strongly of Steve was stupid to begin with. He wasn’t worried about her because she was like Steve, it was because he was infatuated with her. The day she made meat and potatoes stew for them, the day he saw her in that white blouse and that blue skirt he had begun feeling _things_ for her. But it wasn’t until he saw how strong she tried to be despite shaking in his arms that he was so completely blown away by her.

In just short two weeks she had entered their world and changed their lives so irrevocably that Bucky wondered how they had lived without her. Meals weren’t the same without her cooking, mornings weren’t the same without seeing her there with them at the table.

Now she was in London with Howard and who would come back and live in a tiny apartment when she could live in a big mansion with the Howard Stark and be driven around in fancy cars?

One month and he hadn’t even received a letter. Bucky shook his head and banged it on the tabletop, ignoring Steve’s arched eyebrow. Mail got lost all the time. He was sure she _had_ sent it and it just got _lost_. He stifled a groan. It was a Saturday. He should be _out_ , doing things. Flirting dames just didn’t seem… appealing anymore. Not when all he could think of was _her_ in that blouse stretching across her chest, her skirt loosely draping over her ass, her red lips smiling at him, the curls in her hair. His fingers twitched at that thought and he pushed away the desire to run his hands through her hair.

“Not going dancing?” Steve asked.

“No,” groaned Bucky from the table.

Steve pursed his lips but his reply was cut off by a knock on the door. Bucky heard the screech of the chair as Steve got up to answer the door.

“Mr Stark?”

Stark? What was he? Bucky swung around so fast that he nearly got whiplash. Howard Stark was standing at the doorway with his fancy clothes and that smug smile on his face that Bucky wanted to punch away.

“Just here to deliver your letters. Miss Lewis was adamant that I was to drop them off personally and make sure you two have not-” he paused with a chuckle, “in entirely her own words, not dropped dead from their inability to cook.” Stark waved at his assistant who approached them with a large bag and a small tied bundle of letters.

Food. From that swanky restaurant across town. A meal that would have cost Bucky easily a whole year’s pay. How could he even compare to Stark? Bucky swallowed the knot in his throat and gave Stark a humourless smile. “Thank you, sir. Is she alright? Where is she staying?”

“Don’t worry. She settled just fine at a women’s dormitory near the workplace.” He tipped his hat that was probably the latest fashion - not that Bucky was keeping track, “anything for the _brothers_ of Miss Lewis.”

Was that her explanation for Steve and him?

Stark wiggled his fingers. “I’ll pick up any letters you have for Miss Lewis at the end of next week.” Bucky did not wait for him to vanish down the stairways before dividing the letters that were addressed to him and Steve separately.

Sliding his finger across the flap, he ripped it open and a part of him glowed in happiness at the sight of her handwriting.

_Hi Bucky,_

_It’s so goddamn boring here. Alan’s as fascinating as I thought he’d be. At least he doesn’t have some damn idea on what women should or should not be doing. Honestly, the fact that I helped the whole darn project move ahead by months should have proved the fact that I was competent and not just there because I sucked some man’s penis._

Oh my- Bucky palmed his reddening face. Skye was so out of this world. He had never heard a dame swear like that, let alone refer to a man’s private part with such frankness and lack of censorship to another man.

Unable to stop the spread of a smile across his face, Bucky allowed himself to laugh himself silly as he breezed through her letters.

Skye.

‘ _Skye, Skye, Skye_.’ he reiterated her name in his mind, loving the way it sounded. Hot, fiery, remarkably candid and brutally honest. There was no one else quite like her. How he loved that dame.

His mind jerked to a halt at those words.

Yes. He loved that hot, fiery dame.

_He loved Skye_ and he was going to make sure she knew it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason of why my updates is slower... is because I got bitten by a real bad plot bunny and it's been plaguing me non-stop, if you're interested it's on my [tumblr](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/134193978170/hello-from-the-other-side). I _hope_ that it's faster now that I got the troublesome parts over (I had issues with Bucky and his affection for Skye. THE BURN..) I signed a peace treaty with Bucky, where he'll return my muses in return for a kiss with Skye. Let's hope he keeps his side of the deal...
> 
> Till then!


	10. X-1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this took so long! Between the festivities and being sick… sorry! ;w; If you’re wondering about Darcy.. it’ll be explained in.. soon what happened, yes she will be back soon.

 

**xxiii: Skye, 1941**

“Joan Clarke?”

Skye looked up from her work, puzzled to see two MP staring sternly at her. “Yes?”

“You are to go with us,” the man on the right said to her.

Hugh got up from his chair, pushing himself between the two MPs and Skye. “What is she getting arrested for?”

The men tried to push him away but Hugh was joined by John and they refused to budge. “She’s charged on two counts for spying for her country and selling secrets.”

The room turned to her and Skye blinked owlishly at them. “I’m sorry… but to whom am I selling to them for? I’m under Stark Industries employment…”

“I’m sure Howard can vouch for her,” Hugh added on, folding his arms and took a step towards them.

“Mr Stark is currently unavailable to vouch for her.”

“So you’re taking her away while he’s away?”

Alan stood at the table watching the scene unfold, “Well she’s my fiancee, you can’t just take her away and I most definitely can vouch for her.”

“Fiancee?” The Blechatchy park team repeated in an incredulous tone.

“Almost two months already,” Skye told them, picking up on Alan’s plan.

Hugh’s eyes flickered between both of them, regarding them with a curious light. “Since that day at the park, eh? I saw you fingering that box.” He chuckled before turning back to the MPs. “Well then. Gentlemen, you’ll need a proper warrant for not just taking Stark Industries’ employee but also for Mr Turing’s fiancee. This paper-” he waved at them lazily. “Wouldn’t do.”

Skye could see the blond MP’s jaw twitching as he took a step forward. “You can be charged for obstructing the law and you-” he jabbed at Alan. “Can be charged for abetting a national crime.”

“We’re not exactly obstructing any law,” John inclined his head at them. “Hugh only asked you for the proper warrant.”

The look of fury on the blonde MP’s face was a perfect trophy that Skye was going to keep. All the months of complaining about her and it took only an outsider for them to accept her.

Hugh turned to Alan and her the moment the MPs left with a cynical look. “You probably should get her a ring.”

“Actually I do have a ring,” he told them and pulled a blue box from his pocket. It was a plain simple band, nothing fancy but...he knelt down on one knee.

“I didn’t actually think you had a box,” mumbled Hugh.

Skye looked at him puzzled. “What are you doing Alan? It’s just a fake proposal, you don't actually _have to_ get on a knee.”

“It’s still a proposal, my mother always taught me that if I had to propose, I’d get down on one knee.”

She pursed her lips and quirked an eyebrow, “And to think you carried a ring around. Were you actually going to propose to me?”

“Well, judging by your relatively Japanese features and the looks the MPs we're giving you,I calculated a probability of 82% of them trying to arrest you while Howard was away. So I got a ring and-”

“Just give her the ring.” John groaned.

\----

**xxiv: Bucky, 1942**

It was several months later when Bucky saw Stark again. Unlike the last few times when he was all slick and well-groomed, there was a distinct exhaustion in the man's smaller frame. Stark sagged into the offered chair, slapping a small stack of envelopes onto the table, followed by a picture of Skye and a man. He offered a tired but wry grin as Bucky took the picture. Skye looked good with the amusement in her eyes, the glow in her cheeks. Her hand wrapped around the man’s, then he stopped, his heart shuddered with the realization of the thin metal band on her finger - on her _ring_ finger.

Was he too late? Bucky forced a thin smile curl across his face, thrusting the picture back to the engineer who sat there, legs crossed, hands wrapped around one knee. There was a knowing look in his face, the look that told Bucky that _he_ had known exactly what he would have seen. Bucky didn't know how to react to that. That the dame he realized he was in love with was engaged, that the same dame had been in his life for only two weeks at best yet had such a great impact on him, that the man in front of him was taunting him as though trying to provoke some kind of reaction.

“She looks happy,” was all he said. If he was looking for a reaction, Stark was barking up the wrong tree. Bucky had years of practice staying unfazed in the face of assholes and hauling Steve's ass out of the fire time and time again. Today was no different. He clenched his fist, willing the minute tremors away.

“Anyone would be happy not getting dumped into jail.” Howard took a cigarette case out and offered one to Bucky who took it, grateful to have something to do with his hands.

“Jail?”

Taking a long breath from the cigarette, Howard tapped ash onto the proffered tray, blowing a slow trail of grey smoke. “Don't bother writing any letters.” He scribbled an address on the newspaper lying by the letters he had brought. “8 am, 2nd February.”

Squashed the remnants of his cigarette then dusted the coat as he stood, Howard hovered at the door. “James-” he started, catching his eyes. The billionaire sighed, carding his hair irritably. “When you see her…” he hesitated, deepening Bucky’s concern. “Be gentle with her.”

“Wha-” Stark whirled around, slamming the door before he could even voice the question. Bucky stared at the door for several moments, trying to push the dread in him away. There was no point of harping on it. He would find out soon regardless. Turning to the letters, he pulled out those with his name and began reading.

\----

**xxv: Steve, 2015**

He was in the cargo hold staring at the holographic map that Tony had brought up. Bucky sat next to the exit, rifle leaning against his shoulder, eyes closed. From Steve’s position, he couldn’t tell if he was asleep or merely resting his eyes. It was a familiar view, one so familiar that Steve could smell the stench of sweat and gunpowder. His mind filled out the almost vague memories of the forests, the crumbling ruins of once populated villages as they travelled across the map, hunting down Hydra and Nazis. How ironic it was for them to be here, together again, hunting down Hydra again. The only difference was the technology, the team that followed them.

And yet Steve had yet to speak to Bucky. Perhaps it was true; Steve turned away, reminiscing on the last words Bucky had said to him; that he was a hypocrite through and through. He had pushed for Skye to go back in time because he wanted to be able to talk to her about the things that happened but he hadn’t been as willing for Darcy to because they had been on a relatively parallel timeline. Steve wondered how much longer he was going to war with himself before he could come to terms with the consequences of his actions.

If he was ever going to patch their friendship again, he’d have to do the talking. Had it been the past Bucky, things would have been different. Bucky in the past, he used to talk a lot and far more about things that didn’t matter.

_When you see him again, no amount of wishing would make him the same. He is still Bucky just different, the way your experiences make you different._

How had he forgotten Skye’s last words to him? Skye knew. Skye knew he would be physically fine when he was crashing the plane; she gave him hope for the new century when he thought he had lost it all.

She gave him Darcy.

The first time he laid eyes on Darcy, it had been in the elevator. Darcy was wary of him, polite but wary. There was nothing that Skye told him that prepared him for that very meeting. Her blue eyes, framed with the dark hair that curled loosely on her shoulders and the bright red lips. She was a sight to behold. All the stories Skye had told, accumulating in the woman that stood before him; though she folded her arms, her head turned away in disinterest, he could not have stopped that warmth that surged in him.

“We’re arriving,” Sam’s voice buzzed over the intercom.

Shaking himself from his reverie, Steve stood and strapped his helmet on. He leapt out of the plane, swinging his shield into the guards on top as Clint picked the guards off from his vantage point on the plane. A heavy thud beside him a moment later told him that Bucky had followed him. No words were required for either of them, making quick work out of the guards.

“We’re heading down.” Steve told the team. He could see the chaos swirling below with Natasha and Thor entering through the front yard.

“Roger that, Captain.” Natasha replied.

He threw his shield, swinging a fist at the other guard, catching his shield as it bounced off another guard, throwing anger into every kick and punch. There was no mercy in his fighting, no mercy needed for this bunch.

“Floor four clear.” Bucky said.

“Floor one and two clear.” Clint and Natasha reported.

Steve blinked. In his anger-driven rampage, he had lost track of time and almost all awareness of his surroundings. There was a swell on his lower jaw where a guard had landed a lucky punch and probably a bruise where he had taken a good kick. He was so gone. Stifling a sigh, Steve pulled a hand through his hair and picked up his helmet. “Floor three clear.”

Simple and easy Hydra base takedown. He almost wished it was harder and more complicated.

“Capsicle, Tin-man? You might wanna see this,” Tony’s voice cackled through the intercoms. There was a certain amount of alarm that was his voice, something that Steve hadn’t even heard since the WSC had shot that missile into the city of New York. “Level two, door 3A.”

Stepping across the bodies, the super soldier crossed the hallway, down the stairs where the ex-assassins and billionaire stood with grim faces.

“What is it?” Steve asked, Bucky echoing his words a moment later.

“Stark has found a folder. A hard copy to be precise.” Natasha held out a thick folder labelled Project X-1.

“X-1?” Bucky murmured, his hands flipping it open. “Oh God.”

Right on first page was a picture of Skye.

_Test Subject X-1 was found to have significant anomalies in DNA and DNA methylation sequences. X-1 DNA was found to react differently to the compound Doctor Erskine had created._

_Protein and DNA samples were taken and recombinant production attempted. It was found that once removed from X-1 that some of the unique anomalies found in the host DNA dissipated._

“Skye-” a hoarse whisper came from his mouth. The harsh rasp of his breathing sounded painful. The cold closed on Steve like a vice as Bucky dropped the folder, spilling the gruesome pictures of _X-1_ all over the floor.

And there were no words that Steve could say to make things better. Except the only words he had repeated to himself that sounded even hollow to himself.

“We had to. Skye and Darcy made me promise to. It was a promise. We had to.”

 


	11. Fucked either way

**xxvi: Skye, 1942**

She took a clawing breath as a blaze of pain raced across her abdomen. Taking all the skill that May and Natasha had taught her, Skye swung herself upwards onto the beam where her hands were locked on, pushing the jag of agony down her spine. The manacles sprung open easily with a sleight of her hand. There was a dribble of warm fluid down her back as she jumped back down. The hole at the back of neck must have opened up. She slapped a hand on it and silently padded down the hallways.

It had taken Peggy and herself one month to track Doctor Erskine down and, while undercover as maids, Skye had carelessly allowed herself to be caught. Perhaps it wasn’t as careless as she allowed Peggy to think, a calculated probability. She was trained as an agent by the best in the field, she had been tortured before and with Natasha’s training, she had been taught to withstand it. It wasn’t easy but she could do it.

She snapped the guard’s neck in one fluid open palm strike, swung her body to the other guard and slammed him to the ground with her thighs. Skye pulled the bodies into the room, knowing that it was only moments before the next round of guards would find them.

Twenty-three minutes to be precise.

She strapped the dead guard’s coat over her almost naked body, pocketing the handgun, and slung the rifle across her shoulder. It would take her seven minutes to get to Erskine then another twenty to get them safely out. Not the best plan but the only one she had.

Scalpels. Jackpot.

They were significantly more difficult to throw but it wasn’t as though she hadn’t had practice in that. Skye remembered her training with Natasha and Clint throwing everything with lethality - even plastic spoons.

Noiselessly, she made hurried but cautious movement towards Erskine’s room. At worst, she had her powers to back up though the thought of using her powers made Skye’s stomach lurch. It would take too much out of her. Even with her blocking the pain, she could feel it thumping behind the wall.

She knocked the third guard out then a fourth and made it to the doctor’s room without any difficulty. Well under the seven minutes, too, but the seven minutes did factor in taking down the four guards. Scooping the scalpels she had procured, Skye had a heartbeat diving into their line of sight, slashing one across the neck, another with a good blow on the head with her rifle butt and the last two with her powers.

Her knees almost buckled when she unlocked his door.

“Doctor Erskine?” she asked with all the strength she had. “We have to go.”

“You’re bleeding-”

Skye waved it away, merely wiping the blood away. “Later.” Thankfully, the good doctor made no argument, following rapidly behind her.

Glancing both sides of the intersection, Skye waved the doctor onwards, not even bothering to slip into the shadows as she was trained to. Erskine was loud even with his attempts of being quiet. Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly since Skye had paid attention and timed their escape to the precise momentarily lapse) there were not many guards on their way out. She had subdued any guards they met with quick snaps of her palm or thigh. Skye wasn’t sure how she had managed to arrive at her ideal exit without a single bullet fired, no stray fire, no call of alarm. Then a siren sounded.

Speaking of the fucking devil. She muttered vulgarities incontinently. Throwing her last scalpel, she pushed Erskine back against the wall, shielding him with her body as she fired shot after shot with the rifle. He trembled, clutching his ears and made his way to the exit as Skye brought up the rear.

“Miss Clarke!” Erskine’s frantic voice spun her around.

They were surrounded. She pulled Erskine close to her. She could knock them over but that kind of power would make her unconscious. “Doctor Erskine?” she called out in a wobbly voice. God, she was hungry. She wanted a cheeseburger, she wanted Pad Thai, she wanted Darcy’s own cocktail concoction that she still had no bleeding idea what was in it. A rush of homesickness mixed with hunger, anger and frustration was never a good thing. “I’ll get you out. Just… promise me when you get out, you’ll consider my friend Steve Rogers for your program.” She squeezed his hand and pulled him even closer. “Promise me you’ll let Peggy Carter in.”

“I promise,” he said though curiosity lurked in his brown eyes. “How do you plan to get us out?” It reminded Skye of what he had asked while she was on the table. Skye knew he had some inkling to what she _might_ be capable of based on his theories but it was nothing compared to reality.

She took a slow and exhausted breath, sending vibrations down into her hands, packing the vibrations. Her ears reverberated with the hum of atoms quivering in standstill, her hands were buzzing like a thousand bees.

And then she exhaled.

Wind whipped around them like a tornado and they were in the eye of it. Large trees bent and broke in the sheer force, tanks flew, bullets were fired but none reached them. Swirling and whirling into a deadly force, Skye blew them all away as she held Erskine close to her side.

So close. With the last remaining strength in her, she eased the wind to a flutter. Her knees bending beneath her as she collapsed into a heap. The darkness beckoned her and though Skye fought to stay awake, her eyelids slipped and her mind followed.

—-

**xxvii: Steve, 2015**

Steve wasn’t a glutton for punishment, and he wasn’t reading every single page of the folder because he wanted to be punished. He wasn’t noble and all that shit, regardless what the Avengers and public thought of him. Steve read every single lab report because he wanted to understand. How could that small, petite woman have lived through that and gone out again with them into the battlefield? It truly boggled him and now that he thought of it, she might have never actually considered the possibility of coming home.

“Are you here to accuse me?” Steve asked aloud as Bucky stepped into the conference room.

“No… maybe.” He sat down across the table. “I was.”

Steve gave him a tight-lipped smile and motioned with his hand. “Might as well get on with it.”

“I had some guesses about what might have happened.” Bucky gave a hard, melancholic laugh. “I didn’t remember it. Not until last night. How ironic is that?”

Steve didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. Despite the years of rehabilitation and therapy, Bucky never willingly spoke about the memories. It was always out of the blue, like he suddenly remembered it and mentioned it in the passing: the memory of dun dun heads, coney island, Becca. Steve understood it as much as he could. The bad ones were hard to talk about but talking only about the good ones made Bucky feel like he was broken. He had the help he needed, the only thing Steve could do was be there for him and take as much as Bucky could give without feeling pressure.

But this- this was the first time Bucky willingly spoke about a memory, probably not a good memory either. He held his breath with bated anticipation, watching him almost thirstily.

“That day when Skye came back from London… she was different.” Bucky started. “Howard came by, dropped the letters off. And there was that look in his face.” He pushed a hand through his rumpled hair, shaking his head morosely. “Skye had the same look on her when she came back-”

The words caught in Bucky’s throat, coming out in a wheeze instead of the low monotonous rasp. “When she stepped from the plane. There was the look. Like she’d seen hell.”

Like the look Bucky carried, Steve added mentally. Like the look he saw in the mirror, himself. But Steve didn’t add anything in fear of breaking the fragile spell.

Bucky sat there for several moments and in the silence of the room, Steve could hear the quiet whirr of gears as he clenched his fist. “It was only a split second that I saw that. She- she never dropped her mask around us. I _saw_ it. I wanted to know. And pushed her and pushed her- Then I saw her being harassed by some men. I saw her fight. It was brutal and efficient. They never stood a chance against her. Hell, even trained soldiers probably wouldn’t. It was like I fell in love with her-”

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle at those words. “You were already in love with her then,” he explained at Bucky’s scorn.

“I was…” he admitted. “But before then, it was like… I _thought_ I was in love. When I saw her fight, it was more of… the way you look at Darcy that…- I’m a damned sinner so just take me look.”

“I signed on after that.” Bucky spun his head up so fast that Steve was startled. “I met Darcy before you. I knew she was a time traveller right from then on-”

His eyes did not waver as he stared at Steve, blue eyes meeting blue. “It’s true that you forced me into doing the key moment that made Skye go back. But let’s be fair. We’re all adults. I could have not gone through it. If it meant the world and Skye… or Darcy, we both know who we would have picked. And so did she.” He leant back. “The reason she made you promise was because of me.”

—-

**xxvii: Skye, 1942**

Her throat was a fist full of pain. Gasping, choking like someone had held her down by the throat. Her first reactions was to claw the invisible pressure from the throat. As she moved, sucked breath into her burning lungs, it became clear to Skye that her throat was the least of her worries. Every breath and movement she made felt like her body was lying on a bed of crushed glass. The throbbing in her head felt akin to a several hundred herd of elephants trampling over it, pulsating with each strangled breath till frustrated tears streamed down her face and even then, Skye found herself incapable of opening her eyes or even wiping the tears away.

“You’re safe,” the soft voice of Peggy said to her. She felt Peggy’s gentle hands wiped the tears away and placed a cool towel over her burning eyelids. “Safe.”

Skye couldn’t even muster the energy for a snarky response. How could she be safe? How could _they_ be safe? They were well in German territory, if they weren’t running from the Nazis then they were running from Hydra. Her power blast should have knocked her out or even killed her. Being half-kree wasn’t as cracked up as Tony thought. Sure, her biological processes were far more superior than a human’s but they weren’t anything close to the supersoldier serum.

Was Erskine safely brought out? Her mind shifted with a hard, panicky clench and she tried to sense Erskine with her vibrations but brought up nothing. Not that she couldn’t sense Erskine, she couldn’t even sense her _own_ vibrations. Was she broken?

She must have made a sound, or perhaps the strangled whimper she heard had belonged to her because Peggy lightly placed a hand on her head and crooned. Her thoughts were hard to focus on now. Slipping, slurring, dropping off into the deep abyss.

She struggled to keep awake, struggled to voice the question of Erskine’s whereabouts but the more she fought, the harder it became to form thoughts. And then everything went away except for the pain that followed her into the darkness.

When she woke up again, the crushing pain was significantly less than the last time she roused, though it might have to do with thing hooked up to the IV line that she felt stuck into her right arm. There was the stench of sweat and men and a bustle outside the tent that Skye picked up with small vibrations.

She blinked several more times before her vision cleared and came into focus. A small, weak ray of light was filtering through the tent parting, Skye could see the dust motes languish in the tenuous light. Unable to muster any more energy to even move her eyes, she stared blankly at the tent parting until a masculine voice to her right broke into her thoughts, “You alright, sweetcheeks?”

She mumbled a reply and attempted to convince herself that the energy required for her to turn her head to face the man was a worthwhile expedition. Thankfully before she managed to make a deal with her body on turning her head, the man - Howard, shifted to the front of her. He looked at her with concern and turned to the man standing outside, instructing him to retrieve Erskine.

Skye mumbled again, still too spent to do anything but stare laconically at the floating dust motes but, for some reason, Howard understood her garbled words. “Yes, he’s alright. You were far worse off than he was.”

His hand came to rest on hers, lightly fingering one of the wounds inflicted on her by the scientists at the lab. “You had us worried. You could have died and then where would we be?”

Much to Skye’s consternation, Howard wasn’t done. He took a deep breath, continuing in harsh, furious tones, “Yes we did plan to extract Doctor Erskine, yes he was important but no man’s life is more important than your own. We agreed that you could go because you promised… you _agreed_ that if the cost was too much to retrieve Doctor Erskine, you would retreat. But no. _Clearly_ you could have escaped easily from the way Doctor Erskine had described the whole escape, but you didn’t. You waited. You _let_ them torture you, you let them _experiment_ on you.”

Howard got up, pacing up and down the small tent. “Why?” He motioned wildly. “Why go through all that when you could have just… _escaped?_ ”

Skye closed her eyes, hoping he would just think that she had fallen asleep; she was far too exhausted to even begin to explain herself. “Oh no you don’t,” he shook her and Skye stared at him startled. “I waited two whole days for you to wake up. I waited one and a half months for _news!_ For _news_ to tell me that you were _captured_ by the enemies and I damn well better get answers now or so help me, I will give you an adrenaline shot myself until I get some.”

“If I left then… we would have been… unable to retrieve Erskine…” her eyes were closed and her voice was laboured. Her following words were interrupted with the appearance of Erskine, flinging the tent open, joy and amazement dancing across his face.

“Miss Clarke! What you did there was amazing!”

“Her real name is Skye Lewis actually,” Howard corrected. “And what exactly did she do?”

“Why it was like a miracle.” Skye flung her eyes open, almost shooting up were it not for Erskine’s touch on Howard’s elbow and a nod towards the tent. “Perhaps it’d be good for me to talk alone to her.”

“What is it you can’t speak around me?” Howard groused though he did not put up much of a fight beyond that.

Erskine took the seat that Howard must have been occupying earlier, adjusting his glasses as he peered at her with keen interest. “What you did was beyond what I imagined,” he said quietly to her. “The strands in your DNA and the whole peculiarity of it could have hardly been human. Then there was the rapid healing factor.” He motioned to the scars on her arm that were looking more like old wounds rather than fresh, three day old wounds. “ _They_ had some theory that based on your protein compounds found in the strands, there was the possibility of expedient abilities - like the movement of an object with your mind.”

The old doctor paused, cupping a chin. His wrinkled face mirrored the incredulous tone as he continued on so lowly that Skye could barely pick it up herself. “We thought of movement of objects… singularly. The wind, the movement of tanks.” His lips twitched with what Skye thought to be amusement. “That was beyond anything I imagined genomically possible.”

Removing his glasses, he rubbed them on the hem of his crumpled shirt. “They wanted… they made a serum based on your genome sequence, you know?”

A look of horror crossed her face as he uttered the one name she had wished to have never met. “Johann Schmidt tried it on himself. It was a failure… but if you allow me, I’d wish to help perfect it. Perfect the serum as Mister Stark and the Colonel requested. It seemed only right… Right to ask the person where it had came from.”

“You mean… the serum was from me?” she croaked.

The implications of the whole time paradox meant that she _had_ to return here. There was no way of turning this around so that her future self… or past self, depending on how she wanted to see it, didn’t need to return here.

Regardless of how this trip to the past was going to turn out, her younger self had to return here, had to be captured, had to be tortured so that Steve would become Captain America, so that the allies could win the war.

She let out a low, wry chuckle. “Fucked either way, aren’t I?”


	12. Please let me help you

  **xxix: Bucky, 1942**

The cold was biting and as much as he resisted, Bucky couldn’t help stamping his feet on the hard ground, clutching the coat around him and feeling very glad that he had insisted on Steve staying at home. Steve would have caught a chill and with him just recovering from a cold, another cold might very well be the end of him. Howard beside him was uncharacteristically tense, as was his man who held a hand out and shook a firm handshake and merely said, “Jarvis, Edwin Jarvis,” before falling silent.

Above, flakes of white ice, fat and soft meandered from the grey skies above. Bucky sucked a breath, tasting the mild sweetness of the cold air.

“I hope they arrive soon,” Howard said. His head was tilted up and wrapped the scarf around his neck a little tighter. His words were the first since Bucky had stood by them, breaking the long silence.

“Any heavier and they might be forced to divert around Brooklyn and drive in,” Jarvis noted.

Howard looked grim and cast a sidelong look at him as though gauging on what to say.

“What happened?” he asked. What Howard had told him bothered him enough that he lay in bed thinking of all the possibilities. Had she been injured in one of the bomb raids? An army attack? Bucky returned the look, stuffing his hands into his pocket. Mildly annoyed that the genius had not replied, he turned to snap at him only to catch sight of a small military plane plane circling and descended, taxiing across the tiny strip of runway before stopping several feet from where the three of them were standing.

Finally, the answer to his questions. He watched keenly as the door popped up and a man lowered the stairs. Skye hesitated at the top of the stairs before placing a careful step, one hand clutching the left rail, the other was held by another woman.

Bucky moved forward and, for a moment, it seemed as though Skye regarded him with an unsettling light in her eyes; then it was gone. He wondered if it was just a trick of reflections.

“Hi Bucky.”

There was something different about her. The very air around her had changed. Was this what going into a warzone looked like? An old man stepped from behind her, holding her elbow and steering her towards the car.

No, not just her. He observed the way Howard, the old man and the dame watched her, it was the sheer intensity of it. Something happened and he was going to have to find out what.

They arranged themselves into two cars, one driven by Jarvis and the other driven by another man and Bucky found the seat beside Skye open. Or perhaps they had left it open for him. Bucky wasn’t going to question it.

He slid into the seat beside her, finding her cold fingers reaching for his. He pulled her hand into his pocket and wrapped her hand with his. She looked away, cupping her chin with her other hand but not before Bucky caught the small smile on her face.

Outside the snow pelted down and they inched across the icy roads, only the steadily warming hand in his pocket reminded him that she was safe with him. Her face was blank and try as he might, Bucky was unable to discern what happened.

Neither of them spoke until they reached the apartment. Howard merely tilted his hat at Skye, nodded at him and informed her that he would be back for her the day after tomorrow.

“So what happened?” Bucky asked once they were in the warm heat of the landing. Someone - Bucky suspected Howard - had paid extra money to the landlord to make sure even outside the rooms were heated.

A war of emotions, both furtive and fleet, ran across her face. Skye closed her eyes and Bucky could see her composing herself, her fingers clinging onto his. “Nothing,” she whispered in a strangled voice.

He lifted a hand to touch her face, his thumb caressing her cheek and she leaned into his hand. “Doll? I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t, Bucky.”

“Skye.”

She pulled herself away, folding her arms around her, away from him. “I _can’t_ , Bucky. Please don’t ask anymore.”

He turned her back. “Please let me help you.”

"You can't help! Nothing can help! It's just... something I have to get over. And I will. But you can't do it for me. Why do you care anyway?"

Skye thrusted her chin at him angrily. Unable to stand it any longer, Bucky leaned down and kissed her. His hand snaking into her hair, his hand caressing her ear lobe, sliding down her chin to rest his thumb on corner of her lips. He had been worried that she didn’t feel the same way as he did and that his kiss was an annoyance, but when he felt her lips move with his, kissing back fervently, his heart sang and his blood bloomed, and the scent of her - like summer afternoons filled his senses.

When they pulled apart, she gave him a watery laugh, resting her head on his clavicle. He pressed a kiss into her hair, holding her close before a loud wolf whistle pierced through their thoughts.

“Get a room!” The younger man laughed and elbowed his other friend.

Skye blushed and Bucky turned so that she was out of their view as they passed. He ran a thumb over her kiss swollen lips, kissing her another time before pulling her up the stairs.

“It’s… not that I don’t want to tell you,” she murmured. Her fingers were twined his as they walked back up. “It’s I _can’t_. Military secrets you know,” she gave him a rueful smile as they entered the apartment where Steve was waiting.

And it was then, Bucky decided that if she wasn’t going to stop being involved with the military, he was going to do something so that he could protect her, even if it meant signing on.

\---

**xxx: Skye, 1942**

_James Buchanan Barnes._ Skye almost missed reading the name as she skimmed through the list, then stopped herself and went back to it. Nope, no mistake. There it was.

It was an inevitable decision, of course. Skye had always thought that Bucky joined the army as been one of the able-bodied men being drafted for the war. She had never thought the reason would be his need to protect her.

She pursed her lips over the list of new recruits she had just been handed and levelled a look at the Colonel. “You’re not seriously recruiting James Barnes into the SSR are you?”

The colonel looked up at from his papers and arched an eyebrow at her. “Is there something wrong with him? He’s the best we’ve seen so far.”

Skye glanced at the list again.

Unit 107.

She could stop it, pick choice words to stop history from happening, stop Bucky from becoming the Winter Soldier. But at what cost? Skye opened her mouth to say something, anything but found herself unable to speak. What if by changing history meant that Bucky would be sent somewhere else that would end up him dying at the frontlines? She wanted to save Bucky from the years of torture, not send him to an early death.

“Lieutenant Lewis?” The colonel called out more persistently.  

“No. Nothing,” she replied in a small voice. “I’ll pass it to Officer Carter to process it.” Skye shook her head and held the list up, exiting the office before he could press the issue.

Howard found her sitting at the back of the barracks, sloshing down a bottle of whisky later that night. “Slow down dolly,” he said and took the bottle from her.

“Wut for?” She mumbled, trying to wrestle the bottle from his grip.

“How much have you been drinking?”

“Not that mucch.”

Howard battled her hands away and glanced to the side of the box that she had been sitting on. “Four bottles of whisky? Damn, doll. You’d be passed out here if it weren’t for your genes.” He looked at the bottle and threw it to Jarvis, motioning to him to get the car. “We’re sending you home now.” He pulled her up; Skye stumbled over her feet and would have fallen had it not been for Howard’s firm grip and together, they walked towards the car, meandering across several obstacles. Skye’s foot slid and her knees buckled. Falling hard to the ground with a groan, Skye flailed as she struggled to get up.

Howard moved to help her but she waved his hands away. “I can do eeeit myselfff.”

“Barnes would never let me hear the end of it if I left you to go home by yourself.”

At his words, the pent up frustration in her chest streamed down her face and he crouched by her. “Damnit. Why are you crying?” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and started dabbing her face.

Skye’s hand found his in the dimly lit summer’s night. There was only a sliver of the moon hanging in the twilight sky. “If you had a choice to suffer on for many years but with the promise that the suffering will lead to something sweet or a chance to die young but not suffer, which would you pick?”

“That’s a tough question.” Howard sank down beside her, turning his head skyward, uncaring that they were sitting in the middle of the dark, barely lit pathway or that he was dirtying his expensive pants. “Why do you ask?” Skye rested her forehead on her knees. “Is this about Barnes and Rogers?”

She whipped her head up and stared at him in surprised. “How did you-”

“They don’t call me a genius for nothing, Miss Lewis. I’ve seen the way you act when Doctor Erskine talks about some things and Miss Carter did inform me of how upset you were with Barnes’ sign on. He’s _not_ going to die _just because_ he’s going for war, you know that right?”

Oh no, he wasn’t going to die. He was going to suffer and become the shadow of the man she had right now. No matter how much Skye tried, she kept seeing James Barnes in the current Bucky Barnes. Now she could clearly see how much Barnes had lost and gained in his years of Hydra. Bucky of the twenty-first century was composed under any circumstances, he was ruthless without mincing his physical prowess when needed and never shied from anything. Bucky of the forties was a strong with the distinct humanism ingrained in him by Steve and while he was unafraid of going lengths to protect Steve, he had a very distinct line drawn.  His empathy that had been his most defining part of his personality was lost.

“But if you had to make a choice?”

“Suffering. Always the suffering, Miss Lewis. Because death is never the answer to anything.”

Skye screwed her eyes shut. The guilt and grief that she was going to live with was going to be a terrible sound to get used to.

\---

**xxxi: Bucky, 1942**

“Barnes?” Howard banged on the door, startling Bucky. Slung across his arms was Skye passed out.

“What happened?” he asked worried, reaching for her. Howard placed Skye in his arms, carefully setting her head in the crook of his shoulder before stepping back.

“I’m not quite sure; Miss Carter mentioned she was upset and I sought her out. Found her drinking by herself in a corner of the barracks. It was a good thing that no one caught her, too.” Howard tilted his head quizzically at Skye. There was a look on his face that Bucky was quite familiar with, a look that he caught himself in the reflection once while staring at Skye. His heart jerked at the thought of Howard being in love with Skye. Howard was a far better match than he would be. Bucky knew any girl would have picked Howard Stark over him any day.

Howard adjusted the hat on his head, straightening his jacket. “Look, Skye’s brilliant and braver than any dame out there, she intrigues me a lot but I don’t see her anything more than a younger sister that I should have. You treat her right.”

He didn’t say anything else; he didn’t need to. Bucky understood his unspoken meaning. Howard nodded and closed the door behind him.

Shifting her into a better position, Bucky made his way into her… _their_ room and laid her down. She groaned and clung onto him tighter. He sighed and wrestled their shoes off before laying down beside her, tucking the blanket around her.

“What am I going to do with you?” he murmured and pressed a kiss to her temple.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s slow and I’m pretty frustrated too. But for continuity’s sake and flow, it has to be written. I have things planned for next chapter, we’ll be seeing Darcy in the next chp along with several other stuff. I’m realllly looking forward for Darcy actually. Sigh. This was supposed to be a 2 heroine story and it’s beginning to turn out to be some kind of Skye-centric. I remind myself that this is... romance, so there is less action as to what I’m familiar with writing but still. 
> 
> Or am I the only one thinking of it this way?


	13. Go home, Darcy

**xxx: Darcy, 1942**

Her body hurt. It was a bone deep, throbbing pain. Darcy thought she was screaming; it felt like steel fingers wrapped around her throat, squeezing. God, how it burned as she tried to bring herself to consciousness. She opened her mouth to moan, feeling the vibrations in her throat but no sound escaped her throat.

“Darc…” the words around her seemed to fade out like a radio losing reception. “...re you…”

Hands seemed to gently touch her face but each touch was a moment of blistering of agony. She couldn’t move her limbs without the searing pain; her mouth frozen in rictus of pain, her lungs struggled to breathe oxygen into her body.

“Dar…” The same hand laid on her body and she felt the vibrations subsiding within her. Her mind shimmied, slowing. Darcy found she could finally breathe, taking a long breath and then the sounds and sensations slammed her back: the coarse cloth that covered her, the cool towel on her forehead, the sounds of a mechanical fan, the clacking of heels down a hallway, the quiet murmuring beside her.

She blinked, her vision swimming for a moment then stabilizing. A man in khaki army uniform sat beside her, the dark hair brushed neatly across his forehead. He looked up, blue eyes caught hers, a crinkle split across his face in a way Darcy had never seen before. “Hello there baby-doll, I’m James Barnes but you can call me Bucky,” he winked and placed the newspaper down onto the table. Carefully, he placed a cup of water in her hands and helped her take eager sips from it.

“I’m Darcy,” she croaked after the second cup.

“So you’re the legendary Darcy,” he drawled and pulled her blanket up a little higher. “Are you feeling better?”

Better was relative; she hadn’t felt good for a long while but she was definitely better than just moments ago. “Better than just now that’s for sure.” She squared her jaw, eyes taking in the room. It was a small bedroom that barely look lived in, her haversack was on the small study table along with the pistols and knives. Hadn’t she heard clacking heels and stuff?  

“I’ll get Skye, she’s exhausted after last night.”

“Last night?”

“After you appeared in the middle of the room, Skye said that it might be because you’re a _normal_ human which is quite you suffered more than she did. She made me carry you back to our apartment despite the doctor’s orders. Then she did something...” He frowned as though the words left a nasty aftertaste. Bucky eyed her, tapping his finger on his knee.

Used to waiting it out from stoic Bucky, Darcy merely looked down and picked up the newspaper that he had been reading. September 14, 1942. She thumbed the date on the newspaper, aware of his keen eyes picking up all the microexpressions that she must have allowed to show. How long had Skye been stuck here? From the way Bucky referred to her, it seemed like she had been here for awhile.

“Why did Skye refer to you as _normal_  human?”

She chuckled. “Are you not going to ask why I appeared in the middle of the room?” She tilted her head at him and he rolled his shoulders, leaning back onto the chair, the very model example of a laconic posture.

“I already figured you two are from the future.” His lips twitched at her look of disbelief. “It’s not that hard, you know.” Bucky reached for the pistols and her haversack. “Skye was wearing things she called _skinny_ _jeans_ when she first came and her watch. Then there’s your supplies, and your weaponry is unlike anything I’ve ever seen-”

“All this time you knew and you didn’t say a word?” An annoyed voice broke in. Skye folded her arms from her position at the doorway and levelled him a look. Darcy would have never believed that Bucky could express such an emotion, but at that moment he looked very much like an admonished puppy. Skye on the other hand looked… different. There was something that Darcy couldn’t put her finger on.

“How long have you been here?” Darcy breathed, not really sure if she wanted the answer.

“One year.” Skye crossed the room and sat in the seat that Bucky vacated, resting her hand on Bucky’s bicep. A silent conversation took place between them and Bucky sighed, exited the room with a frown. “You’re too early,” she said quietly to Darcy.

Darcy shook her head, her lips quivered as she replied, “one year too late Skye.” Taking Skye’s hand she squeezed it, pushing the nausea down. “The date. You arrived in 1941? I could-”

Her fingers were trembling when she tried to open the bracelet. How had the date setting been? She should have read it properly. She could go back, right? Then this Skye wouldn’t be here-

Skye’s hand tightened over hers, jerking Darcy out of her mental babble. “I have… _things_ to do before I can go back, if that’s even possible.”

Her brown eyes were bitter, her hands were calloused in places that Darcy didn’t remember her ever having. She turned Skye’s hand over, running her fingers over the callouses. Two years. How things had changed her. This Skye wasn’t the same that left her. Something had happened to her that changed her. 1942. Had it been Steve? Had their presence in the past changed the future so drastically?

“You say _things_ …” Darcy said after a moment and she glanced at the door where Bucky was likely to be. “You don’t actually mean… those kind of _things…_ do you?” Her unsaid meaning seemed to weigh heavily in the air, the tension was so thick and oppressing that Darcy fought for a breath. Was Skye really trying to change the past? Wasn’t there that thing about the Back to the Future or the Doctor Who? What if there really was reapers? What if- what if they never met in her past? Would Darcy still remember _her_ Skye? What about Bucky? Was she going to abandon _their_ Bucky for _this_ Bucky?

Skye didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

She watched Skye draw herself back into the seat, looping an arm across her chest. “Skye…” Darcy pried Skye’s fingers from her chest and slid her fingers through Skye’s. Carefully, she questioned Skye, “what happens if what you’re doing will change the entire course of our future?” And continued when Skye refused to answer. “You know how they say, the single butterfly flaps its wings-”

“I know!” Skye tugged her fingers from her grasp, running them over her neat braid before steepling them, her elbows digging into her thighs as she sighed. “I know something… lots of things might change. But you don’t seriously think I could.. _just walk away,_ did you?” she asked, her voice taking on a savage tone.

“Skye-”

“I can’t- I won’t.” Skye stood up, tugging the lapels of her khaki army uniform. So preoccupied with seeing her sister at long last, Darcy had not registered that Skye wearing an army uniform. The pencil skirt hugged Skye’s figure and the curves that Darcy was familiar with even when Skye was an agent were gone; she was lean and lithely muscular, even her eyes were harder.

Skye stared at her, her eyes unwavering as she said evenly. “Go home, Darcy. Go home and forget me.”

* * *

 

##    
Author’s note

**I’m afraid this is the last chapter for this story.** I looked at it once over from the beginning and I hated how much the story had convoluted into. If I had to write a review for myself it’d be “Great story. Has potential but failed to reach the potential.” and I’m afraid no matter how much chapters I write, it’d be a utter piece of crap. Rather than forcing myself to finish a piece that I do not think is worth any salt, I’ve decided to end it.

So here, I’ve posted the last piece that I have on this story and I’ll probably start rewriting from the beginning and the new rewritten piece would probably be rather different barring the plot points. I won’t be replacing the chapters (for Ao3 and FFN) as I know some people do like this story (this version rather). I will post a chp to this if and when the rewrite is ready.

**What’s next?**

For those who read this for Darcy/Steve, there’s new one in the works where Darcy’s a teenage vigilante.

For those who read this for Darcy & Skye best buds, there’s one in the works where Skye & Darcy are blood sisters. 

For those who read this for Skye/Bucky, there’s uhhhhhhh nothing. There’s still [Hello from the other side](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/search/hello+from+the+other+side)! That’s still being worked on on and off.

And if anything else, these are the previous (current?) [WIPs](http://luna-orlha.tumblr.com/post/132475188475/pick-a-wip) that are floating about.

 

This story was beta-ed by the lovely [LadyWinterlight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWinterlight/pseuds/LadyWinterlight). Do check her work out too!

 


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